


Flight to the Stars

by Julian_Juliana



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Blood and Injury, F/M, Heartbreaking, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julian_Juliana/pseuds/Julian_Juliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Hook never handed over Baelfire to Pan, setting off a domino effect and directly changing Emma's fate of breaking the twenty-eight year curse of Storybrooke. Two days before her seventeenth birthday and by "accident", she's taken to Neverland and must align herself with Hook and Baelfire to make it off the island alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Possible OOC, major character death, minor character death, violence, mention of a children's deaths, mild gore, innuendo, underage implicit sexual content, implicit sexual content between an adult and a minor, implicit sexual content, and language.

**Boston, 2000**

Emma zipped up her backpack, put on a Red Sox baseball cap, and tossed the hood of her jacket over it. She was ready to go. Leave this place. Leave the system once and for all. She had her fake ID, Harry Potter books, food to last a few days, Mathew's Swiss Army knife because she wasn't an idiot, a wad of stolen cash she snatched from Mrs. Abernathy's purse, and her baby blanket.

Slipping her backpack on, she gave one last glance to Brianna sleeping on the top bunk and the room she'd been sleeping in for the last three weeks. Quietly, she opened the bedroom door and tiptoed into the hallway. She about got to the top of the staircase when she heard whispering coming from the boys' room. The door was open and it sounded like Ian was talking to someone. It wasn't that strange. There were two other boys in the room with him, but the light was off and the bedroom door was partially open. Something strange settled into the air, and Emma wanted to shake it off. She could literally see her freedom, her ticket out of this awful place. The front door was only feet away from the last stair.

No one was talking back to Ian. The kid may be eight, but he wasn't weird enough to strike up a conversation with himself.

Emma went down one step and then cursed, returning to the second level and walking into the boys' room, her breath catching when seeing a dark, shadowy figure looming over Mathew while he slept on his top bunk. Ian was standing and looking up, whispering, "Don't wake him. He won't like that. Please don't."

"Hey!" she shouted and the shadowy figure lurched and pinned Emma with inhuman glowing eyes. Mathew and Darnell stirred while the figure floated away from Mathew and grabbed Ian, pulling him towards the open window.

"Emma!" Ian called out, stretching his free hand towards her. He was being lifted off the floor.

"No!" She ran towards him and grabbed his ankle right when it was leaving the window ledge. She tried yanking him back into the room but felt herself being lifted and pulled out the window. She and Ian shot towards the sky at a heart-stopping speed. They flew over parks, homes, and the city buildings of Boston before elevating further up into the starry night. The temperature dropped dramatically, and Emma stared up at hers and Ian's captor. Good God, she could see through it.

"I'm scared!" Ian sobbed.

Emma didn't respond. She could no longer see Boston, and something in the air changed. They were now flying below the clouds again and beneath them was a large body of water, and far off in the distance was an island.

The shadow descended at a sharp decline, darting towards the water. Emma's boots skimmed the water, and she realized what the shadow was trying to do. It was trying to get rid of her. Determinedly, her grip tightened on Ian's ankle. At the same time, a grip settled on hers. Alarmed, she let go of Ian and fell into the frigid water, the temperature knocking the wind out of her. She hurriedly swam to surface and inhaled a deep breath, jerking her head around to see what had pulled her in, screaming when feeling something brush against her leg. God, please don't let be a shark!

She was only mildly relieved to know that sharks couldn't grip onto a person's ankle.

Emma stayed there for a few minutes, waiting to feel something encircle her again before setting eyes on the island. It was far but she could make it. She had to rescue Ian. He was just a kid.

As she swam towards the island, Emma rehashed the last twenty minutes and tried to come up with a logical explanation of what she'd seen and experienced. The fact was, though, she was swimming in a cold, salty ocean to reach Ian who had been kidnapped by a body-less thing. She was _not_ dreaming and was very much wet.

Her backpack was sopped and heavy and slowing her strokes, but she couldn't part with it. It had her blanket in it and small knickknacks making up her insignificant life. Plus food. Not all of it but some probably survived the icy dip into the ocean. Yay, for cellophane packaged goods, she thought bitterly.

Several times before she reached shore, Emma felt something brush up against her, but she could never saw it and she was partially grateful for that. By the time she reached the sand, the sun was rising and she was exhausted. Her arms, back, and shoulders ached. She quickly shrugged off her pack and squished the water out of it and unzipped it, throwing aside the cardboard box of her Pop Tarts and gum. Emma uncapped one of her three bottles of water and guzzled half of it, the liquid feeling nice on her tongue but gross in her stomach. She had swallowed too much ocean.

Emma wanted to dry before going in search for Ian but with the sun rising and the humidity thickly settling into the air, she knew that wasn't going to happen. She stripped off her jacket and tied it around her waist, keeping her ball cap on. She stared into the lush, thick green forest in front of her and whispered a, "Shit." Finding Ian was going to be a maze. She got out her stolen pocket knife and breached the forest line, walking ten or so feet and scratching at the trunk of a tree.

"Ian!" she called out.

A bird flew away from the tree she was carving on.

Every twenty feet, she repeated the action of scratching at the tree trunks and called for Ian. By the time the sun was high up in the sky, her throat ached and she was down to her last bottle of water. She was sweating buckets and hadn't needed to pee which didn't bode well with her. She was becoming dehydrated and fast, not to mention the gnats and other flying bugs feasting on her. At least the tall, leafy trees provided some shade from the sun or she'd be as red as a lobster.

Emma walked a mile before she remembered what she'd seen about coconuts on TV. There was water in them. Looking up at the palm tree she scratched on, she saw the brownish green cylinders snuggled at the base of the branches. Shirking her pack, she wrapped her legs and arms around the trunk of the tree and wiggled upwards. She didn't know how to climb trees without lower branches, so the journey was going to be interesting.

Once she reached the coconuts, her heart pounded from exertion. With her last bit of energy, she maneuvered onto a branch and dislodged the coconuts by kicking at them. Three hit the ground and rolled, so she shimmied down the trunk and grabbed them before they got too far.

Emma remembered hearing from somewhere that coconuts have thick skins, so with Mathew's pocket knife and a rock, she worked on puncturing several holes into the layers and the meat. After a few minutes, a thin stream of light yellow liquid poured into her awaiting water bottle. She repeated this with the other two coconuts and hoped they would be enough until she found fresh water.

When the forest began to darken and Emma's stomach began to growl, she called out to Ian several more times before finding a clearing and resting against a tree. She pulled a Pop Tart out of her bag and wished it to be a cheeseburger.

Hours ticked by and Emma jerked awake when hearing the sounds of crying children.

"Ian!" she yelled and climbed to her feet. She could barely see a thing, the only light coming from the full moon and stars in the sky. She slung her backpack around her shoulders and headed towards the noise. She walked for several minutes and stopped when she came to a spring. She sighed in relief and dipped her hands into the cool water, washing her hands, face, and neck.

Something sharp and fast whizzed past her cheek, slightly grazing the skin. She yelped and fell to her side, scrambling to get on her feet and run. In the dark, she saw several hooded figures emerge from the bushes. One of them, the tallest, said, "Kill her."

"Wh—" The words died on Emma's lips, and she turned around and sprinted in the opposite direction, circling around the spring and back into the forest. They were chasing after her. She could hear the stomping of their feet behind her. She picked up the pace and weaved in and out of clearings, only to take a sharp left and run along a rocky hillside. She believed to be home free when a cloaked figure came at her from the side and flattened her to the ground. He sat on top of her chest, knees pressing painfully into her arms.

"Stupid little girl calling out for the boy all day long. We knew where you were the moment you entered the forest."

Emma frowned. He sounded like a kid. Maybe ten or eleven.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" she hissed

"Pan has no use for you."

"What? What are you—"

Her question was cut short when she saw him lift his hand, and she saw a small bladed dagger catching the moon's reflection. Swiftly, she brought both her knees up and slammed them hard into the child's back. He howled in pain and rolled off her, and she grabbed his weapon and disappeared from sight. She got a few hundred yards when another cloaked figure stepped out in front of her swinging a club at her face. High on adrenaline, she gripped the club when it came at her again and yanked it from the figure's hold, tossing it aside. He then unsheathed a—was that a sword?— and took a swipe at her. She quickly picked up the discarded club and used that to fend him off, managing to hit him in the gut and then between the legs. He fell to his knees, and she relieved him of his sword and left behind the club. The less weapons they had, the harder it would be for them to kill her. Why they felt they had to was beyond her. She only wanted Ian and to get the hell off this island. Away from this _Lord of the Flies_ nightmare come to life. God, she hoped Ian was okay. He was so little; she wanted to believe he wasn't being hurt by these hopped-up hooligans.

Morning came without any more attacks, but her body hurt and she was exhausted. She needed food. Real food. Not candy bars and Pop Tarts. Eventually, she found another spring and hoped there may be fish in it. Didn't matter, she mused. She didn't know how to fish, anyway, especially without a pole.

Emma refilled her water bottles and washed her arms. She was tempted to strip and have a lay in the water to scrub off the grime but couldn't risk being caught in such a vulnerable state. Not that she could be much more vulnerable than she already was. She had no idea where she was or where she needed to go. If she found Ian, she had no idea how to get back to Boston. They were _flown_ here by a _thing_.

She bit down on her lips to keep from crying. She was sixteen—no seventeen—she was seventeen years old today and had gone a few years without shedding a tear. Now was not the time to start again. She needed to be strong and wallowing and weeping in despair was not going to help her.

"Hello, Emma."

Emma bristled and leapt to her feet, whirling around to see a boy about sixteen dressed in dark green material. Mathew's knife was held tight in her fist, and she did her best to calm her racing heart. "I've already outwitted two of you," she told him.

He smirked and began to pace. "That you have, and I'm impressed. It's why I called my boys back. I clearly underestimated you."

"Your boys?"

He nodded and stopped pacing. "If you haven't figured it out, Emma, you were never meant to come." He then shrugged, his smirk deepening. "Neither was Ian. The boy was just a way of getting who I truly wanted. Mathew. Alas, the lad wouldn't wake, and I need a new recruit."

Emma frowned and took a step back. "Who are you?"

"You haven't figured it out?" He chuckled, smiling impishly. "I'm Peter Pan."

She shook her head, scoffing. "I'm serious."

The boy's eyes darkened, and his nostrils flared. "You don't belong here, Emma. For many reasons. It's why Shadow tried to feed you to the mermaids. I see those picky eaters barely left a mark on you. You see, Neverland is home to the believers of magic. To children who dream of a freer life away from adults who don't care about them. Who don't love them and couldn't possibly be bothered to try."

Emma looked away, a sour feeling settling in her chest.

"Hit close to home, that one. Doesn't matter. You may be a lost girl, an orphan, but you don't believe in anything, do you? You so are weighed down with resentment and bitterness and _hate_ , Shadow didn't bother carrying you the rest of the way. There is no hope in you. It's just as well. I don't like girls. Their presence tends to disrupt Neverland's order. My order."

A number of hooded boys emerged from the surrounding shrubbery, pointing spears and arrows at her. She whipped her head around, trying to find an opening in the trees to run for and find a place to hide.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the boy who called himself Peter Pan warned. "You move just a little, the fish in this spring will be picking the flesh off your bones for the next week. I'm going to take you back to our camp. I will allow you to see precious, little Ian but come nightfall, you will be given two choices."

"Which are?" Emma asked.

"Just know neither require leaving this island or seeing Ian again after tonight. Felix!" The tallest of the boys came to Pan's side. "Tie her hands and relieve of her of her things. We'll need to move now if we want to get back to camp by the afternoon."

* * *

The boy named Felix emptied the contents of Emma's backpack, and one by one, threw each item into the fire in the middle of the camp. It stung when he ripped apart her water-logged Harry Potter books before tossing them into the flames, but that was nothing compared what she felt when he burned her baby blanket. With five pointed spearheads pointed at her throat, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

"I want to go home, Emma," Ian said from beside her. Like her, he was sitting on the same log but was not receiving the same hospitable treatment.

"I'm sorry," was all she could muster. What the hell was she supposed to say? Everything was going to be all right? It wasn't and her nerves were too shot for her to lie. The night had just fully settled over the island, and she knew she wasn't going to live to see dawn.

This was not how she pictured her death. Not on an island. Not by the hands of a fictional character. Not when she just turned seventeen.

A roasted fish on a stick appeared in front of her. "Hungry?" Pan asked.

"Providing me a last meal?" Emma inquired.

"It could be your last. I suppose it's time to discuss your options."

"You still haven't given the choices."

Pan smirked at her, arching a brow. "Eager, are we? Well, if the lady insists. You have two choices, Swan. I slit your throat now and toss your body into the fire. _Or_ my boys hunt you until you die. What will it be? Die now or perish in a few hours. I won't judge you for whichever path you pick. You pick the second, we will play fair. You won't leave this camp unarmed. Pick the first? Well, it'll be quick and only mildly painful. I promise not to burn your body until you are well and truly lifeless."

Emma exhaled sharply, tears burning her eyes. "I want you to take Ian back."

"This isn't a bargain. You can't offer your life for his when it's already over," Pan said.

"He's eight. What could you possibly need him for? If you are Peter Pan and this is Neverland, he won't get older. He'll stay like this forever. I look at these other boys. None of them are as young as he is. Take him back."

"You should be more concerned about yourself, Emma. I'm giving you ten seconds to decide. You don't? I'll have your shadow ripped from your body slowly, and that _will_ be painful and you will die."

Pan gifted back her stolen knife, a quiver full of arrows, and a bow. Emma barely knew how to use the knife. The only experience she had with archery was seeing it on television. It looked easy, but she wasn't an idiot. Taking aim, dislodging the arrow, and hitting a target was not going happen. Not without practice, and she had no time for that. These lost boys were aching to off her, itching for a hunt and to run wild, painting the island red with her blood.

"Do I get a head start?" she asked Pan.

He shook his head and yelled, "Go!"

* * *

Baelfire quietly climbed up the roped ladder onto the _Jolly Roger_ from the rowboat. When he made it to the main deck, his captain's voice greeted him. "If you think I wouldn't notice you were gone the whole bleeding day, then you're growing foolish, lad."

"There's a barrel of freshwater and a net of fish in the boat," Baelfire said, discarding his satchel.

"The agreed time to fetch supplies was tomorrow. You disobeyed my orders."

"Pan and the Lost Boys were distracted today. I saw a window and took it. It's time you start trusting me and letting me go out on my own. I can take care of myself when I'm out there."

"That's what Henderson and O'Malley thought," the captain growled. "You are to remain on this ship until I say otherwise. Understood?"

"You can't keep me holed up on this ship all the time. I'm a part of the crew."

Hook scowled at him. "You're bound to the kitchen until further notice."

Baelfire stomped off, disappearing below deck. Captain Hook glowered after him, the tattoo on his forearm itching. He stared at the island. Pan's camp remained ignited, and he could hear the heathenry howls of the boys even from miles away. Hook thought back to what Baelfire said and how the Pan and the Lost Boys were distracted, a rare happening. He and what was left of his crew had been in Neverland for over three hundred years-Baelfire over hundred. He reckoned he knew Pan and his boys well enough to know they had a rogue recruit on their hands. A recruit who didn't fancy playing Pan's games and the concept of never leaving the bloody island.

It was a blithering shame when a recruit didn't adhere to Pan's rules. The ones who defied him usually didn't live more than a week. Hook sympathized with them. They were lads, after all, but dying was a lot better than being Pan's lap-slag.

Hook pulled out from his pocket a bottle of rum and saluted to the island before downing a sip. "Best of luck to you, mate. You're going to need it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Neverland**

**Three Months Later…**

"Captain!"

Hook opened his eyes and rolled over on his bed and looked out the small window of his private quarters, taking note of the complete blackness of the sky. Dawn wasn't for a couple of hours.

"What, Smee?!" he bellowed at the door.

"Baelfire's gone."

"Bleedin' Christ." The captain kicked off his bed covers and lit the lantern on his desk. He slid on his trousers and barked, "McKinley was supposed to be keeping watch! Alert the crew! We leave for the island in five minutes!"

His crew wasn't pleased about being stirred awake at such an ungodly hour to go search for the _Roger's_ youngest mate who had only brought trouble the moment he arrived on board. Yet, none of them dared voice their displeasure concerning Baelfire unless they wanted to be tossed off the ship.

"Wipe those bloody sneers off your ugly mugs! A crew member has gone missing!" Hook and the majority of his crew armed themselves and made way to the island, using their spare rowboat since Baelfire took the other. They camouflaged it with branches when making coast and headed into the trees, the men splitting up into groups to seek out the island's freshwater springs. The boy would be loitering close to one of them.

He and his group searched for hours, avoiding the dark forest. Baelfire knew not to go in there. Soon, Hook and Starkey were standing at the bottom of a small cliff. At the top, thickets of Dreamshade populated and covered the majority of the pathway leading to the nearest fresh water cove.

"Keep watch," Hook said. "I doubt Bealfire's up there, but I've got to be sure."

Hook hiked up the side of the small cliff and found the familiar, overgrown Dreamshade bush he and his brother came across so many years ago. He got as close as he dared to the wretched plant and listened for any inorganic sounds coming from the cove. Indeed, after hearing a splash, he covered himself as best as he could, clearing a narrow pathway to the other side with his sword. Once he was out of the clear, an arrow whizzed past him, grazing his ear.

"Shite!" He touched the bloodied, stinging wound and lifted his sword, praying there wasn't any Dreamshade piss on it.

"Move and the next one goes between your eyes!"

Hook lowered his sword, more out of alarm rather than fear of being killed. Across the spring stood a girl, certainly not older than eighteen, dressed in peculiar but ragged and sopped clothing. Her feet were bare and her pale blonde hair was fashioned into a tight braid down her back.

The girl blinked at him and hesitantly lowered her weapon. "You're not a Lost Boy."

"Aye," he replied. The shock of her presence faded away, being replaced by bewilderment. What in the ruddy hell had that demon child done? Bringing a girl to the island, again?

Her bow took aim once more. "You're _canoodling_ with Pan, aren't you?!"

"I haven't the faintest as to what that means, but I assure you I'm not." He frowned. "You're a Lost Girl?"

Something volatile and inhuman overwhelmed her features. "I'm not a part of Pan's brigade. He's a monster!"

Hook made a show of lowering his sword to the ground. "That he is. So how long have you been here?"

Her eyes darted around the surrounding canyon before meeting his. "Ninety-four days."

Ninety-four days was not a long time in comparison to three hundred years, but for a rogue recruit of Pan's, it was a bleedin' lifetime. She was a survivor, this one, but the majority of lost children were.

"What's your name, lass?" he asked.

"Emma," she said.

"Emma, why don't you put down your bow? We can have a talk."

"You think I'm stupid? I know who you are, Captain Hook. Pan's a goddamn nightmare, so I can only imagine what you're like."

"If you are an enemy of Pan, then I can assure you I am not yours. And, please, call me Captain Jones."

"I hardly think that's necessary."

Hook's lips twitched. A spitfire, this one was. "Captain Hook is so impersonal, sweetheart. Makes me seem unapproachable, but call me what you may, Miss Emma. I merely have a question for you, and then I ask to be free from your lovely clutches. I'm looking for a lad. Perhaps you've seen him."

The girl stared bemusedly at him.

"He's not a Lost Boy," he added.

"If he's here, then he's lost," the girl said darkly. "If he's a pirate, I haven't seen him. I don't make it a habit of going where others will."

He pointed behind himself. "The Dreamshade bushes."

"It keeps them away sometimes."

"Aye." Hook eyed the spring and pondered if he should ask the lass if she'd drank from it.

A toucan glided low into the cove and rested on Emma's shoulder. She lowered her bow and stilled while the bird croaked close to her ear. She nodded and said, "Okay," and the bird flew away.

"There is a group of Lost Boys migrating towards the north spring. Since we're here, they're hunting something else."

Hook stared at her a long while. As enchanted as the island was, he'd never seen anyone in Neverland communicate with the animals, with the exception of mermaids. He wondered what realm she came from. The boys who belonged to Pan the longest came from Misthaven while his newer ones derived from the Land Without Magic.

"The boy you're looking for is probably there. You should hurry. It's a long way." She shouldered her bow and quiver and walked around the spring, keeping a careful eye on him all the while. "Don't follow me."

The thought crossed Hook's mind. If he were on a simple supply run, he'd keep her from getting too far and press this Emma girl for more information. If she was living on the island and enemies to Pan, maybe she knew the direct location of his camp. Hook would love to ambush Pan and his merry band of little bastards.

When Hook made it to the north spring, his crew were washing their minor injuries they must've gotten from the Lost Boys. Baelfire was away from them, perched on a large rock and a coconut in his hands, staring at it like it held the answers to the universe. There was a bloodied cut on his cheek and a slash on his trousers. The lad didn't say a word on the journey back to the ship, and Hook's thoughts kept drifting back to that girl. Emma. The island was no place for a young lady. Tinker Bell got by because Pan didn't see her as a threat. Tiger Lily, well, the girl never left the reservation after what Pan did to her those many years ago. Emma, unfortunately, was indeed a threat. If Hook could see that, Pan surely had which begged the question as to why the demon hadn't eliminated her.

On the _Jolly Roger_ , Hook escorted Baelfire to the captain's quarters much to the boy's dismay, but it was for his own safety. The crew wasn't too happy with him for more than just the lad's troublesome streak. The lot saw the boy as a little thorn who got in the way of their freedom.

Many years had gone by since Bae wanted to leave the ship after discovering the truth about his mother's infidelity and father's crime. Things had simmered down considerably, but it remained to be seen that Baelfire hardly respected his captain and the fellow crewmen. He always broke rules and back-talked to his superiors, as well. Hook wondered if Bae was just begging to be fed to the mermaids.

Shoving the boy into the captain's quarters, Hook smirked inwardly. Maybe Bae _was_ feeling desperate for some female companionship and _did_ want to go for a swim. God knew how many of his crew nearly jumped into the waters just for a kiss, even if it meant death. Two centuries was a long time for a pirate without a lass warming his bed.

Again, his thoughts drifted back to Emma. She was young. Too young in comparison to the women he usually bedded before coming to Neverland. Milah had been quite older than himself. Yet, the Emma girl was a beauty underneath all that hostility and had the potential to develop into a stunning woman, something this godforsaken place would never grant her. Neverland would forever keep her from womanhood. Evading the Lost Boys and hunting for food would increase her strength, but her lithe, adolescent figure would remain.

Hook massaged the bridge of his nose. Emma was a child, and he may be a pirate but he was once a gentlemen. He had no business thinking about the girl's body.

"Sometimes I need space," Bae grumbled, clutching the coconut to his middle and tearing Hook out of is self-lecture. "Being on the ship all the time, it's suffocating. You don't have to scout the entire island with the crew to come search for me."

"Pan isn't interested in you anymore," Hook reminded gravely. "When he sends his boys after you, they're not coming to collect. They're coming to kill."

Baelfire bit his lip like he was hesitating to say something. "A month ago, I snuck onto the island when everyone was sleeping. Let me speak, please! I went to get more of that fish Smee likes at the east spring. Felix cornered me. He didn't hurt me or try to drag me to Pan's camp. He said Pan's use for us is growing smaller." The boy set down the coconut on Hook's desk. Again, he looked like he was struggling to say something. "We need to find a way out of Neverland. _Soon_."

"Bae."

"I've been doing more than just collecting provisions for the ship and crew on the island. I've been talking to Tinker Bell."

Hook's frown deepened.

"She's not as loyal to Pan as you think."

"Which doesn't mean she's loyal to us." Hook was torn between tossing the boy out of his quarters and telling him for the thousandth time they were never leaving Neverland. "I doubt she can even help. She's as stuck as we are."

"She's more familiar with him."

"Go to bed, Bae. We'll discuss your punishment at dawn when you're scrubbing the kitchen in the morning." Hook grabbed the back of the boy's neck and pushed him towards the door. Baelfire scrambled away from his touch and snatched the coconut off the desk before darting out of the cabin.

For the next week, Hook prohibited his crew from leaving the ship and kept them busy by having them cater to any and every flaw of the _Jolly Roger_. As he patrolled the decks, his eyes often wandered to the island. Emma kept crossing his mind more than he cared to admit and started concerning himself for her safety, questioning if he should allow her sanctuary on his ship or would she'd be just as hunted. Some of his men had varying degree of gentlemanly values but the majority were complete pirates. The island may be no place for a girl, but his ship certainly wasn't either. Indeed, Hook could prohibit his crew from touching her or even speaking to her, but these were desperate men. They may shirk their loyalty and disobey him if it meant having a sweet taste of lass once more before being run through with a sword.

"You seem distracted, captain," Smee said while the crew took to scrubbing the sails.

"Aye," he admitted, frowning. He was peering through his telescope, thinking he may catch a glimpse of Emma on the island. Hook failed to see her or any of the Lost Boys out and about on the southern part of the island for the past week. He lowered his telescoped and glanced at his men while lowering his voice to a whisper. "Keep this between us. Aye, mate?"

"Of course, captain."

"There's a girl on the island."

Smee's eyes widened. "Pan hasn't brought a girl here since Wendy."

"Her name's Emma, and she's not infatuated with the island's magic or Pan. I ran into her while searching for Bae last week."

"A Lost Girl? You think Pan's trying something new?"

"I think," Hook scratched at his scruff, "Pan's planning something. The girl's not his lackey, but she was alive after ninety days when I met her. That makes me suspicious."

"He probably doesn't see her as a threat. She's a girl up against a pack of armed lads."

"This one is not like the Darling girl, Smee. She's different. Also," he dropped his voice even lower, "Bae told me he ran into Felix a month ago. Felix belayed a message. Apparently, we're overstaying our welcome."

Smee furrowed his brow, concerned. "Captain?"

"We may need to prepare for a final standoff, Mr. Smee."

* * *

Emma sat on Marooner's Rock, knees up and elbows resting. Beside her, a small fire roasted her latest catch. A few feet in front of her, the water rippled and a woman's head surfaced. Emma smiled and waved, scooting closer to the water. "Hi, Ariel."

Ariel smiled back and pulled herself up to sit on the nearest boulder. She opened her satchel and pulled out three pearls, one of them white and two of them purplish-blue. Emma opened her palm, grinning. "Thank you." She slid the jewels into her front pocket and sighed when catching the mermaids disapproving stare at her breakfast. "A girl's gotta eat, and a McDonald's won't open until next year."

A flock of blue jays flew by and Ariel pointed at them.

"I _don't_ eat the birds." Emma whistled and one of the birds broke rank and swooped down towards her, perching on her awaiting finger. The bird chirped and fluttered its wings, and Emma broke off a small piece of cooked fish and made an offering. The fowl took a bite and flew away, and Emma sighed. "There's a boy heading in this direction. Think I can handle him?"

Ariel bowed her head, wordlessly telling Emma to be careful.

Emma shoveled some fish into her mouth and slurped at her coconut before tearing down her fire pit and kicking sand over it. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and lined it with her bow, pulling back and aiming, waiting for a Lost Boy to emerge from the shrubbery. Not a minute later a boy about fourteen dressed in black trousers, a white tunic, and boots stepped out behind a tree yielding a cutlass.

"You're not a Lost Boy," he said.

"I take it neither are you," Emma replied.

The boy blinked at her like he was trying to assess if she was real. He tightened his grip on the cutlass and asked, "Who are you?"

"Emma."

"Are you one of Pan's? Is he recruiting girls now?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?" he asked forcefully.

"Because he won't let me leave." Emma scowled at him. "If I lower my bow, are you going to attack me, pirate?"

"Only if you give me reason to."

He wasn't lying, and she slowly lowered her bow and he did the same with his cutlass. "What's your name?"

"Baelfire."

"That's a really weird name."

Baelfire frowned, eyeing her clothing. "Where did Pan's Shadow bring you from? Was it…London?"

"Boston."

"Is that close to London?"

"There's an ocean between them so no."

"But you're from there. The realm with no magic." Baelfire took a step towards her, and Emma could sense a hint of excitement radiating off him.

"It must sound appealing to you if you've been here for so long."

"I can hardly remember a time magic wasn't in my life. You must miss this place called Boston."

Emma shrugged. She didn't miss it, but she'd gladly go back. "Lost Boys aren't trying to kill me all the time, I guess."

Baelfire looked troubled and asked, "How long have you been in Neverland?"

"A little over three months, I think."

"Pan must have a reason for keeping you alive."

"I'm being hunted," Emma said.

"Or are you simply being chased in the name of all good fun?" Baelfire chanced another step towards her. "Pan controls this island. All of it. You're alive because he wants you to be."

"Whatever you say. I have to go." She shouldered her bow and rolled on the balls of her feet, looking up at the sun. She was running late, so she broke out into a run and shot past him into the trees.

"Wait! I can help you!" he called after her, breaking out into a sprint to try and catch up.

"Unless you can get me ice cream, I don't want your help!"

Emma took a sharp left and Baelfire followed after, stopping abruptly when seeing her climb a vertical cobbled wall of rock without taking a rest. When she reached the top, she took off running again, and Baelfire could no longer see her from where he stood. He walked to the base of the wall and peered up, amazed she reached the top so fast.

"Bae!"

"Over here," he muttered and begrudgingly turned around to face his captain.

"I ordered you not wander from the crew. What in God's name are you doing at Mermaid's Lagoon? Trying to get yourself killed before I get to you, is that it?"

"There was a girl." He pointed to the top of the wall.

Hook jerked his head up, hoping to catch a glimpse of sun-pinked skin and blonde hair but only saw the ledge of the wall and some undisturbed bushes.

"What was she doing?"

Baelfire eyes widened. "You've seen her before?"

"Aye."

The boy gestured to trail leading towards Marooner's Rock. "I heard her by the water. I thought it was a mermaid."

Hook tore his gaze from the rock wall to glare at the lad. "So you went to go see?"

Baelfire scratched behind his ear and looked away, blushing. "It wasn't, so it doesn't matter."

The man grabbed the boy by the arm, grip tight. "Out of all that time you spent on my ship, I don't think you've ever been properly acquainted with the brigs, lad."

Baelfire yanked his arm away with a grunt. "You've never asked me once why I keep running away."

The boy wasn't running away. He was sneaking off, and Hook knew he intended to always come back. Intentions, unfortunately, were not enough to survive the island, thus, why Hook searched for him every time **.**

"I know why you distance yourself, Bae."

Baelfire rolled his eyes dramatically, catching his superior off guard. "You _think_ you do. Come on. We don't want to keep the brigs waiting now, do we?"

Hook opened his mouth to give the boy a good tongue-lashing but held back when hearing a twig snap. Both he and Bae drew their swords and faced the direction the sound came from. Felix and Benjamin emerged from behind two wide, neighboring tree trunks.

"Captain. Baelfire," Felix acknowledged. "You can lower your swords. Our fight's not with you. We're looking for a girl. We tracked her to this spot."

"There's a girl on the island?" Baelfire asked, playing dumb, but from the smirk on Felix's face, he wasn't convinced.

"When you see her again, Baelfire, tell her she can't run in circles forever. We will find her."

"I've no doubt you will find her, Felix. Aside from Pan, you know the island better than anyone," Hook said.

Felix bared his teeth in a horrifying grin. "Pan gives his apologies for not giving you the message in person. You see, he's quite occupied as of late. You and your ship have encroached on his home long enough, and he's planning of ways to extract you."

"By all means, if the demon would let us leave," Hook said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.

"Pan refuses to help those who won't help themselves, captain." He lowered his chin in farewell. "Baelfire. Captain."

The two Lost Boys shuffled off the trail and back into the forest.

Baelfire sheathed his cutlass and said, "They won't kill her."

"They're probably waiting for her to tire herself out, Bae. It's all a game to them." Hook was reconsidering the idea of allowing Emma passage on his ship. Eventually, she would exhaust herself, and Pan would leap to the opportunity. When the opponent had no fight left, the game was no longer fun.

"Maybe," he whispered, looking back at the top of the ledge of the rock wall. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

Emma shoved her fingers inside her pocket and pulled out the three pearls, offering them to Tiger Lily. They sat cross-legged in front of each other on a rug inside the masked princess's large teepee. Emma could only see Tiger Lily's deep brown eyes and thick, long lashes. They were beautiful and the only unblemished part of her face according to Great Big Little Panther. The chief said nothing specific as to what Pan did to Tiger Lily's face. All Emma knew was that the monster probably disfigured her, and now Pan and the Piccaninny tribe were enemies who stayed the hell out of each other's way.

Tiger Lily accepted the pearls and put them in a ceramic bowl with the rest before sliding a whicker box in Emma's direction.

"Thank you," Emma said, pulling out the pair of specially-made, thick-soled moccasins. She slipped them on her bare feet and relished the interior warmth of soft rabbit fur enveloping her roughened skin. The prickly island grounds hardly hurt her feet anymore, but having shoes made her feel more like a human and less like an animal. The boots she wore when arriving to Neverland never made it past the third week of her stay.

Emma stayed at the Piccaninny's reservation for dinner, feasting on wild boar, pineapple, and drinking coconut milk. Afterwards, she thanked them for their hospitality and willingness to trade with her and before leaving their camp, they handed her a thick, dark brown wedge. She brought it to her nose and sniffed, saliva flooding her mouth instantly. "Is this chocolate?"

There was no sugar cane on the island, so the slab of chocolate was sweetened with honey and textured with pine nuts. It tasted divine, and she hurriedly scarfed it down before exiting the reservation. She wasn't going to chance having one of the Lost Boys take this from her.

Early the next morning, before sunrise, Emma hiked the way to Marooner's Rock and waited until the sun reached the lagoon to catch her breakfast. She kicked off her moccasins, trekked into the shallow parts of the water and drew her bow, taking aim at a solider fish.

"I wouldn't recommend eating that."

Emma whipped her head around and saw Baelfire standing rigid on the coastline, in his hands a coconut. She tossed him a glare and said, "You should be more careful. What if I decided to shoot you instead?"

"That would've hurt."

She rolled her eyes, snorting. "Probably." She lowered her bow and saw the boy eyeing her shoes on the sand.

"You've been to the reservation," he said, surprise in his tone.

"I trade with them."

Baelfire's eyes widened. "It took my captain ages to negotiate with the tribe."

Emma treaded towards the beach, eyebrow arched. "I've been here for three months avoiding Lost Boys _and_ your crew. You're pirates. No one wants to strike deals with you. No one wants to help you."

She didn't want to slip her muddy feet into her shoes right away, so she picked them up and held them to her chest. "You shouldn't be so close to the water. The mermaids smell boy easier than seaweed. They're probably swimming on their way now, hoping for some pubescent breakfast."

Baelfire shook his head, chuckling. "The way you speak is strange."

"You're the strange one, _Baelfire_. Only a moron would willingly come to Mermaid's Lagoon."

"You're here."

"They don't bother me the same way they'll bother you. I can take being insulted, but I doubt I'd survive a drowning." She marched away from him and towards the trail, throwing a bemused glance behind her when he hurried after her.

"You never told me your name," he said.

"Emma."

"Where are you going, Emma?"

"Since you _disapproved_ of my breakfast, I'll have to find something else."

"Roasted pigeons aren't bad. There is a flock of them around southern part of the island."

"I don't eat the birds."

"Because you can talk to them."

Emma stopped and looked at Baelfire, frowning. He blushed and coughed uncomfortably, and she asked, "Do you have somewhere else you should be? You have a ship. You should go back to it."

"I have to meet Tinker Bell soon. She's helping me with something."

"Tinker Bell," Emma repeated. She had wondered but had yet to see the pixie on the island in her three month stay. She glanced back at him and eyed the coconut cradled against his middle. "What's with the coconut, anyway?"

Baelfire smiled. "I don't know yet, but I'll let you know when I do."

Emma stopped a ways from Crocodile Creek and pulled a pineapple out of the ground. Baelfire watched as she rinsed the fruit in the water and skinned it with a peculiar looking knife. She then carved out a juicy piece and handed it to him, and he accepted with a half-grin.

"I thought you said no one would help a pirate."

"I'm _not,_ " Emma said. "You are fully capable of taking care of yourself. I'm being kind. There's a difference. You had three miles worth of opportunities to literally stab me in the back, and you didn't. It's a thanks."

"My captain would say it's bad form to attack a lady from behind."

She licked the pineapple juices from her fingers, catching Baelfire's stare. He blushed again and found something fascinating on his boots. Emma inwardly grinned, supposing the kid hadn't seen a real girl in a long time.

"How old are you, Baelfire?" she asked.

He stood up straight and tilted back his chin, making himself grow another half-inch. "I'm older than I look."

From his height, the squeak in his voice, his smooth baby skin, and the complete lack of body hair, Emma assumed he was a late-blooming fourteen year old. "Okay. How long have you been here?"

"Over a century."

Emma's heart sunk into her belly, and she whispered, "Oh." She stuffed some pineapple into her mouth and wondered when she was going to let Pan's boys gut her because she was _not_ going to be hoofing it around the island for a hundred years.

Baelfire sensed her sudden change in mood and tried to change the subject. "How old are you?"

"I guess it doesn't matter, does it?" She smiled bitterly and handed him the rest of the pineapple. She wasn't hungry anymore. "Keep it. I'm gonna take off."

Emma sprinted away before he could get in another word. She followed the creek north until she reached the island's north spring. Finding a smooth, flat rock in the water and a tree trunk, she sat and sharpened her knife. Ten minutes later, she heard some rustling from the trees above her. She looked up and nearly screamed when seeing Pan drop from the branches. Recovering quickly, she scrambled to her feet and knocked him to the ground, sitting on his stomach and putting her blade to his throat.

His eyes danced with amusement. "It's been a while. I nearly forgot that fire you have, but I suggest you tread lightly, Emma. There are ten arrows pointing at you."

Keeping her eyes on his face, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise to attention. His words rang true. They were not alone, and the odds being alive in the next ten minutes were not in her favor.

"Maybe I'll just take you with me," she said.

"Is this about Ian?"

Emma pressed the flat side of the blade further into his Adam's apple. "Tell me, Emma. How long did it take to wash his blood out of your hair? It certainly didn't come out of your clothes."

Blind hatred consumed her and she buried the blade of her knife into his chest. A second later, a sharp pain pierced her shoulder and she fell to the side. She looked down and saw a fletching sticking out of her body. Pan sat up and pulled the knife out from his chest and discarded it like a used tissue. "I don't understand your vengeance, Emma. He wasn't your brother. He was just a lad you sort of knew for a few weeks."

Emma clenched her teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Tears blurred her vision, and she could feel her shirt dampen with blood. God, it hurt!

"Just kill me," she spat. What was he waiting for? This was what he's been wanting since she got here.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Pan knelt beside her and rolled the fletching between his thumb and forefinger, making Emma cry out in agony. "No, Emma, you're going to live. Soon, an opportunity to leave Neverland will present itself, and you're going to take it. You're going to leave, Emma Swan, and go back to the Land Without Magic."

Black spots dotted Emma's vision, and she rested her head against the cold, damp earth. She barely heard what he was saying.

Pan gently touched the blonde strands covering face, tucking them away behind her ear. "Baelfire's a bright, young lad, isn't he? He's not so adept at hiding his new, blossoming feelings as I'm sure you noticed. But, Bae… he's, like family. I trust you won't break his heart. Emma's eyes fluttered shut but snapped open when Pan gripped the arrow's fletching and yanked it out of her shoulder. "Now let's get this love story started, shall we?"

* * *

Emma stirred awake from a thick, cottony haze and shivered. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, and she slit her eyes open. She closed them immediately when feeling a splitting headache make its ugly presence known. Her damp brow furrowed as she she remembered clashing with Pan and being hit with an arrow. The pain had been unbearable, and she must've blacked out when he pulled it out.

Her eyes fluttered open again and knew she should be laying at the base of tree on a mossy, leafy patch of ground but wasn't. She was on a sheeted mattress in a dark place unable to make out anything but a few details. She breathed in deeply and sat up, a flare of protest erupting from her shoulder. She looked down and saw her arm snuggly wrapped and harnessed bellowed her breasts in a well-crafted, makeshift sling with a reddish-pink, circular stain at the shoulder.

Another shiver wracked her body, and she pressed her free hand to the back of her sweaty forehead. She had slight fever, like it had just broken not too long ago, and her body was rushing to cool down by ridding itself of all her fluids. She needed some water and soon before she got too dehydrated.

A faint streak of light peeking through a small circular opening caught Emma's attention. She lowered her bare feet off the thin, worn mattress and onto a cold, wooden floor. She stumbled over to the small window and saw the dawn flirting with a watery horizon.

_Shit!_

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she gasped. She was on the pirate ship.

In what must've been a small cabin, Emma searched the unlit room for her bow, quiver, and knife. Her hands found something flat and grainy and assumed it to be a desk. She skimmed the surface and touched an object of rounded metal and glass. An old lantern. Nice. If only she knew how to light one.

Emma pulled out the rickety drawers of the desk and found most of them empty, save for a few sheets of yellowed, flimsy parchment paper and a rectangular wooden box. She abandoned the desk and bumped around the room, searching for anything that could be improvised as a weapon beside the lantern on the desk. This was a pirate ship. There should be swords and cutlasses and daggers all over the place. She sighed in aggravation and went back to the desk, resting against it. Honestly, she contemplated getting back in the bed because even though the mattress was thin and well-used, it was still softer than the futon-rug thing back in her cave that cost her six pearls and a kiss to Flying Squawk Eye's cheek.

The door to the cabin creaked open, and Emma couldn't even summon enough energy to be terrified when Captain Hook entered the room, a brightly lit lantern hanging from his silver appendage. His gaze landed on the bed and then on her by the desk.

"What am I doing here?" she croaked, her throat and mouth dry. Oh, yes, she needed water badly. She sounded pitiful and weak.

Hook walked up to the desk and set the lantern down next to the unlit one. "You should lay down. You lost a great deal of blood, Miss Emma."

She shook her head. "I want to leave."

"And return to the island where Pan can finish you?"

"Like I'm so much safer here."

He invaded her space, their middles only inches away from each other. "I'm giving you sanctuary, Miss Emma. You will not be harmed on my ship. My crew has been briefed, and it will be their folly and funeral if they disobey."

"I _don't_ need your help, pirate," she hissed and stuck out her chin.

His eyes hardened, and he leaned close to her, the light of the lantern shining directly on his face. In Dreamshade Cove, the spring between them gave her a distant view of his features. With his face so close to hers and catching the light of flames, she saw that his eyes were blue and his lashes were long, pronounced by a dusky rimming of…eyeliner? His features were symmetrical and scruffy, and he smelt of sweetened alcohol and ocean. He wore necklaces that hung in the deep V-shape of his vest, and he had an earing in his right ear. It was the same ear she clipped when shooting at him in the cove, and she saw a thin, healing cut on his helix.

The man reached a hand towards her, and she pressed her back against the wall of the cabin and turned her face to the side. He pinched a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear before gently sliding a curled finger underneath her chin, trying to get her to look at him again.

"And you're not as threatening without your bow and quiver, lass." When he replaced his fingers with his hook, she flinched and stared at him, eyes wide. He tapped the outer curve of the metal against her chin three times and said, "Perhaps I wasn't clear. I'm _giving_ you sanctuary. Pirates are mostly known for taking but when they give, Miss Emma, the gifts _will be_ received. You are not to leave this ship unless I give you permission to do so."

"So you're just going to keep me against my will?" she asked, glaring.

"Aye." Hook smiled, eyebrows arched. "For reasons that I'd rather not bore you with, I'm indebted to my cabin boy. When he requests favors, I oblige. It was he who found you at the north spring, and it was he who asked for your stay on my ship, but it was I who carried you here."

"Baelfire saved me?" Something warm and fluttery erupted in her chest, and it was embarrassing. He was a kid, for God's sake. She had, like, three years and two inches on him.

He found her and must've run all the way back to the beach, rowed a boat to the ship, and got his captain to comply with his wishes. That couldn't have been easy.

Hook sighed, closing his eyes and looking down between them like he was annoyed. "It was an effort on both our parts, Miss Emma. You weren't magically out of the woods when we made ship. Starkey and I had to craft a bandage and sling for you while Bae and Smee tended to you. You contracted an infection. You've been unconscious for two days."

"Baelfire took care of me?"

Hook lifted his head and glowered at her. "It's bad form to not give credit where credit is due, Miss Emma. I _carried_ you."

"I've dropped, like, ten pounds since I've been here. I doubt I was heavy."

Licking his teeth, which were surprisingly white and straight, Hook said, "I've carried rum barrels lighter than you."

"No, you haven't. God, you're really not going to shove off until I thank you, huh? _Fine_! Thank you, Hook, for not letting me die and forcing me to stay on your boat!"

""Killian."

""What?"

"Call me Killian, lass."


	4. Chapter 4

Hook left Emma in the cabin, leaving the door open. He didn't want the girl to think she was bound to a single room. Despite giving her forced sanctuary on his ship, she was not a prisoner. If for some reason, unbeknownst to him, she wanted to return to the island after healing completely from her injured state, he wouldn't keep her regardless of Bae's wishes.

The captain stayed below deck and went to his private quarters. His men would be up soon tending to their duties, and he needed some time to think alone without Smee breathing down his neck and asking questions about the _Roger's_ new guest.

Emma. He requested she call him by his christened name. It sort of stumbled off his tongue without permission, but the phenomena had happened previously in numerous occasions. Before coming to Neverland and travelling the realms where women were plentiful, Hook would find himself a bar wench, a lady of the night, or a willing peasant woman. The charm had slid easily into place and he'd toss around stories of adventure, and they would call him Captain Hook. Always, he told them to call him Killian. Having them scream his name instead of his title increased that intimacy and pleasure he rather liked.

Hook braced himself in front his mirror, scowling. The laces of his trousers started to feel snug, and he wanted to have his release. Being without women for so long, he and his only hand were well acquainted with each other. Many a nights and early mornings, he recalled Milah and her beauty. On some occasion, his late lover was replaced with a faceless, soft-curved woman. Yet, his _growing_ frustration had someone else in mind, and if he were a lesser man, he'd remedy the situation without shame.

Emma was not a woman. She hadn't the lush curves of Milah or the refined, mature splendor of an adult. She was maybe seventeen. She had looked so young to him backed against the wall of the cabin. Baelfire hadn't known her age when Hook asked, but the man was confident in knowing she was still considered a child by Neverland's standards. The idea that he may be _twice_ of Emma's maturity made him feel perverse for responding to her beauty. The little comfort he received was knowing his attraction didn't really originate from her youthfulness. It came from the qualities he found attractive. Her ferocity and stubbornness were jarring, and he found himself rather taken with it. Her quick-witted tongue was impressive, as well, and would keep him and the crew on their toes. Too long he and his crew suffered the mundane life of keeping to the ship to avoid Pan's vicious island of playtime. A little spice on board would do them all some good.

Indeed, the girl had feistiness and spirit in her, but he'd been taken aback by her loveliness. In the cove, he'd seen a pretty but bedraggled girl. Carrying her back to his ship, he'd seen an injured maiden, pale and listless from blood-loss. In the cabin, with her so close and him being able to interact with her, Hook noticed her features were not just breathtakingly fair but _uncommon_. There were sure to be few people in the world who shared eye color with Miss Emma, and her hair was very flaxen. Her skin most likely preferred to be a milky, almost translucent shade, but the unforgiveable sun had pinked and freckled it.

The girl's eyes, hair, and skin were indeed off-putting, but her bone structure left him questioning her heritage and background. Having once been a gentleman and an officer for the Royal Navy and then later a thief to any realms' monarch, Hook knew aristocracy when he saw it, and he wondered to which higher level of status she belonged to. Was she, herself, royalty or simply nobility? Baelfire told him she was from the Land Without Magic, a realm Hook steered clear from. If she were, how could she communicate with birds? Such a gift was native to only magical realms.

He'd have to speak with her and come to know more of her history. Aside from being a beautiful, fascinating creature, she was still a stranger to him. He had yet to ask for a surname or the specifics of her coming to Neverland.

Hook hovered over his wash bowl and splashed some water in his face, the coolness taking the edge of his discomfort, and he laughed at his foolishness when remembering how annoyed he felt when Emma kept referring back to Bae saving her life. God, Hook would like to think his behavior was merely from not receiving a bloody thank you from the girl. In actuality, he was jealous and had no business to be. Yes, Miss Emma could learn to be more gracious, but her being flattered and impressed by Baelfire's heroism was understandable and certainly more appropriate. Hook should be relieved she didn't direct her gratitude upon him at all.

But he wasn't.

Bloody hell, she was a child. His mind understood that; why hadn't his traitorous prick?

"Captain?" called Smee from the outside the cabin's door.

"Aye?" he grumbled.

"The girl wishes a bath."

Hook squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers trembling to unlace his breeches and angrily wank that cursed image out of his head.

"And you're bothering me with this information because why?!"

"She has not admitted such, but the young lady requires assistance. I'm asking permission to relieve Baelfire of his kitchen duties, so he can help her."

Hook banged his forehead against the mirror. Baelfire, regardless of his ever-developing affection for Miss Emma, was in no way ready to help the ailing lass bathe. The boy was not ready to help _any_ lass bathe.

"Baelfire will keep to the kitchen, Smee. I'll assist Miss Emma."

"Captain. Given the circumstances, wouldn't it be more appropriate-"

"No!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply. "Ready Miss Emma's bath. I'll be to her cabin shortly."

"Yes, captain."

Hook stared angrily into the mirror, his eyes slit and mouth twisted. With no preamble, he yanked at his laces and braced himself against the small dresser. As he thrust into his grip, he told himself that he was pirate, a monster, and blood-thirsty for vengeance against the Dark One. He should feel no guilt about his actions or ungentlemanly thoughts regarding Emma. She was a pretty female, and this was his ship and as captain, should be allowed to do whatever to both with no consequence.

When he finished, he rinsed his hand and changed his trousers, the high of his anger and release dissipating. He left his quarters and made way for Emma's cabin that was previously Smee's, much to his first mate's dismay. He opened the door and saw Emma wrapped up in a bed sheet from chin to feet, leaning over the steaming water inside the copper tub.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "Ugh! What are you doing here?"

Hook closed the door behind him. "I understand you need help bathing."

"Do I look like I'm _two?!_ Get out!" She secured the sheet tighter around her person and pinned him with a scathing look.

He stepped forward and cleared his throat, lying when he said, "Miss Emma, I don't quite fancy the situation either. The truth of the matter is, you are unable to properly clean yourself in the condition you are in. If you'd prefer, I can always ask a member of my crew to help you. I expect they'd be eager to oblige."

A conflicted expression clouded her features, and he wondered if she was thinking of Bae, a boy closer to her age and someone she more than likely trusted over him.

"I cannot allow Baelfire to help you, Miss Emma," he tested. "He's a boy and unfamiliar with delicate situations such as these. It would be improper."

"And _this_ ," she said, her face pinching like she'd eaten something sour, "isn't?"

"I'm a gentleman when the occasion calls for it. Aside from that, I'm a grown man and you've nothing I haven't already seen."

Emma tucked her chin to her chest, looking down at the floor. He closed the distance between them and gingerly tugged on the material. He was not going to rip it from her but wanted her to shed the barrier on her own. From the way she was gnawing on her lips and the increasing redness staining her cheeks, they could both be there for a while.

"Emma," he said, intentionally leaving out the 'Miss'.

Her eyelids shut for a few seconds, and she took a deep breath, the sheet loosening only a smidgen before dropping to her waist. Hook kept his gaze on her face, but in his peripheral he saw her shirt and sling still intact. He assumed her trousers weren't if she felt the need to cover herself.

The sheet then completed its journey to the floor and he saw Emma swallow, her eyes becoming shiny. "I can't get my shirt off," she said thickly.

He pinched the thin, bloodied and tattered material at her uninjured shoulder and then stabbed his hook through it and tore it off her, careful to extract the trapped section underneath her trapped arm which required him seeing her breasts for a few moments.

"You tore my shirt!"

"It was an atrocity," he said, unconcerned. He showed her his hand. "Let me help you in."

She hesitantly grabbed it and lifted her leg to set it into the tub. When her leg sunk into the water, she gasped.

"Is it too hot?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I just haven't had hot water in a long time." She let go of his hand and bent down, sinking into the water. She placed her good arm over her sling and crossed her ankles, bring her knees close to her torso, preserving her modesty like he hadn't just seen her feminine parts along with all the damage the island inflicted on her the past three months.

Hook rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves to the creases of his arms, divested his brace of the hook, and grabbed the bar of soap Smee must've left on the desk. He scooted up the chair next to the tub and without saying a word, grabbed Emma's left arm from the water and rubbed sudsy circles on her dirt-tracked skin.

"Hey!" She stole back her arm and covered herself again, shooting him a murderous glare.

"Let me wash you working arm, and then you can use it to wash yourself," he said.

She did not offer back her arm but didn't fight him when he took it again and resumed his lathering of her limb. He cradled the warm, wet arm in the crook of his left and messaged the bar of soap into her slim, calloused fingers before dunking the soap into the water and giving her palm and the back of her hand the same treatment. Hook repeated this until he got to her shoulder, and then travelled his ministrations to her back. He scooted her long, pale tresses so they draped over her injured shoulder and pressed the bar of soap into her left shoulder blade, exposing various scrapes and cuts from the island.

Emma stared at him in bemusement when his scrubbing travelled to her back but didn't shirk away. It needed washing, and she couldn't do it by herself, so she bit her tongue. She had to admit, though, that it felt nice. The way he messaged the soap into her hands and arm wasn't unpleasant in the least. Her overworked muscles had needed loosening and direct attention after so many days of climbing trees, cliffs, and swimming.

With his sleeves rolled up, she was able to see the brace encasing his stump and a tattoo on his forearm. There was a feminine name inside a heart and a wavy dagger plunged into the middle of it. How morbid, she mused but stared anyway. The name and the heart seemed more faded than the dagger, like the latter was a more recent addition.

"Who's Milah?" she asked.

He said nothing and Emma was not about to ask again. She knew he heard her, but if he didn't want to answer, she wasn't going to berate him to satiate her own mild curiosity.

"It's pronounced with a long E sound," Hook eventually said.

"Like Mila Kunis?"

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

Emma shook her head and rested her chin on her knee. "No." She cast him a side glance, biting her lip. "So you've been here for a hundred years."

"The _Jolly Roger_ " he paused to grab a washcloth and dunked it into the water, "has been circling the island for a long, long time."

"You can't leave, can you? Even with the ship, you're stuck."

"Aye."

She craned her neck to face him and asked, "How do you stand it?"

"There's little choice in the matter, lass."

Pan's words from their encounter rang in her ear. He said there would be an opportunity to leave, and she had to take it. Was Hook sitting on some elaborate escape plan? Was Pan planning some voyage for her to get off the island? Why not kill her if she was such a pain in his ass?

Emma wondered if it would be wise to share with Hook what Pan told her at the north spring. Would he care? Or even put in stock into it? She wanted to. She wanted to believe there was a way out of Neverland, especially after what Baelfire and now Hook told her. She didn't want to die here…or not die here.

"So there's no way out," she said, sighing.

"It's not impossible to cross realms as you know since you are here. But to leave, one needs a concentrated kind of magic that opens portals to other realms."

"Realms," Emma whispered, brow furrowed. She just barely wrapped her head around Neverland its _magic_ for God's sake. Hook was telling her there were different _un-plotted, unmapped_ places in the world.

She felt ill...and pissed. There were more places like _this_?

"From your evident unfamiliarity with such notions, I take it you are from the Land Without Magic and not Misthaven, also known as the Enchanted Forest."

Emma opened her mouth and then closed it, scowling. She leaned back, hinting to Hook she was finished with him washing her back. "Give me the soap and turn around. Or _leave_ , just don't look."

She took the soap and cloth from him and made sure he turned around to face the bed before she lifted her leg on the edge of the copper basin and started scrubbing.

"Have I offended you?" Hook asked, curious amusement in his tone.

"I don't know those _realm_ names, but there isn't magic where I from. It has enough problems as is."

Emma winced when her sling became completely damp, hot water hitting her wound. She would need another makeshift sling to keep her arm and shoulder still. Her eyes then landed on the shredded remains of her shirt. She would need another and would make Hook see that she got one. He tore it, so he _would_ replace it.

She had wanted to trade pearls for clothes with the Piccaninny tribe, but there were always more pressing items she needed like archery lessons and pointers on how to track and trap a prey. Emma had evaded the Lost Boys by being a faster runner the night she sprinted from Pan's camp. Surviving the island, however, was an entirely different battle.

With her free hand, Emma grasped at the tresses and debated whether she should hack them off, but she was vain about them. Even in during her ugly-duckling phase, she took pride in her hair because it had been the only pretty thing about her.

There was no purpose for prettiness in Neverland.

Well, there was Baelfire.

Emma rolled her eyes and reminded herself how her new found ally would remain just that.

"Do you have any hair rinse?" she asked. Back in her humble cave, she had a few precious vials given to her from Tiger Lily as gifts.

Hook chuckled breathily. "Just soap, lass."

She stared at the pine-scented lye soap in her hand and made a face. Maybe if she just put it on her roots until she could return to the island, her hair wouldn't shrivel up and die.

"I need a shirt," she said. "And a new sling."

"I'm sure we can find something for you. Are you done?"

"Almost." She dunked her head under the water, rinsing the suds from her hair and then surfacing. "Okay."

Hook turned around and helped her out of the tub, her skin pinking from being unable to cover herself. She was thankful he kept his eyes on her face and his expression neutral. Emma could tell he was trying very hard and was grateful he stayed true to being a gentleman for the last twenty minutes, but he was still a pirate and had travelled realms wreaking havoc as pirates do. He had not pillaged and plundered her, but that didn't mean other girls were so blessed.

As if reading her mind, Hook said as he wrapped a drying cloth around her, "I will not harm you, Miss Emma."

She wanted to say something smart and sassy back at him like, "As if you could", but in her vulnerable state, her witty comeback would sound stupid. Instead, she smiled a bitter one and replied, "Well, aren't I lucky, captain?"


	5. Chapter 5

_As if reading her mind, Hook said as he wrapped a drying cloth around her, "I will not harm you, Miss Emma."_

_She wanted to say something smart and sassy back at him like, "As if you could", but in her vulnerable state, her witty comeback would sound stupid. Instead, she smiled a bitter one and replied, "Well, aren't I lucky, captain?"_

Hook leaned down to whisper, "It would do you good to remember that." He backed away from her and towards the door of the cabin. "I'll see you have something to wear."

When he left, she scowled in his wake and shuffled over to the bed, plopping down and looking around the cabin. With the morning sun well above the horizon, light spilled into the room and she was able to see much better than earlier. In the opposite corner was a shelf where a few dusty, battered books resided, making her think of school, something she hadn't thought much of since arriving to Neverland. When she planned on running away that night from Mrs. Abernathy's and the system, she had a "sort of plan" in getting her GED. Now, Emma would give almost anything to be back in school where there was air-conditioning and the nice lunch lady who let her have two chocolate milks instead of one.

Sitting on the bed in the cabin of the _Jolly Roger_ , Emma promised herself if Pan was true to his words and she was able to leave Neverland, she'd return to Boston and finish school. Maybe even go to college and actually _try_ in life instead of running away from it. Hadn't she run enough on the island?

It was all she knew, though.

Emma wasn't going to make a pretty promise to herself about going to a university, but she would graduate from high school. She would give herself that. She deserved it after what she'd been through.

Captain Hook reentered the cabin, a small stack of folded clothes tucked underneath his arm. Looped around his hook, he held a tin mug and saluted her with it. "Water."

Emma grabbed the mug and guzzled down the warm but clean water. When she finished, she wiped her mouth with her arm and exhaled a, "Thanks."

"I forgot to mention it's poison."

She merely stared at him, stifling a belch in her throat.

"Not even a flinch." He smirked and set the clothes beside her on the mattress.

As Hook unfolded a pair of black trousers from the small stack, Emma wondered how long she was going to have to depend on him. How long did shoulder injuries take to heal? Hers was a flesh wound, so no longer than a month, she roughly estimated. The injury would probably stop hurting before then, so Emma gave herself two, maybe three weeks.

Two weeks of being naked in front of him.

She suddenly had a strong urge to tell Hook how distasteful she found him, but her injury wasn't his fault and acting like a child was only going to annoy them both. Still. How else was she supposed to deal with him handling her like how a kid playing with a doll?

"You don't require any dresses, do you?" he asked, cracking a smile. Like he could read her mind, the bastard.

"I can't remember the last time I even wore one." She almost did for the Spring Fling back in May, but that slimy Tyler Fenwick backed out the morning of when she refused to go all the way with him after the dance. He should've been so lucky she let him get to second base, the pervert. "Why? Do you have a private collection stashed away in your cabin that you dabble with in the dead of night as to not be judged by your crew?" She winked at him. "It's okay. I won't judge you…too much."

"You are by far the mouthiest little lass I've ever encountered. Drop the cloth." He held up the trousers pointedly.

"You _haven't_ even bought me dinner yet." She huffed and tossed her eyes to the ceiling, keeping them there as she let the drying cloth fall to her feet. He undid her sling and peeled the sodden material off her skin. She hissed in pain when it slightly stuck to her wound, and he thumbed around the tender flesh.

"Usually, lass, the arrows of the Lost Boys are dipped in Dreamshade."

"I'm not worried."

"I'm only curious why they didn't deliver a more devastating blow. They want you dead, yes?"

"I honestly don't know anymore."

Emma sensed he dropped to his knees, and she kept her eyes trained above her, a blush warming her body. Hook was eyelevel to her girl-iest part. She didn't see herself a prude, but the entire predicament was obscene. When he cupped the back of her calve, she nearly leapt out of her skin.

"Lift your leg."

"You know, I could probably put on the pants by myself." God, she was pathetic, but forgive her if she didn't want him to see anymore of her…

Brianna had called it pussy.

Emma did _not_ want to reference her sex that. It wasn't a cat. It was a...

Guh! She was a prude!

"Lift. Your leg," he annunciated and she contemplated kneeing him the face.

"Just so you are aware, c _aptain_ , I'm thinking of all the ways rip your eyes out of your head."

He chortled and much to Emma's horror, the rich, mirthful sound made her lower stomach do something it hadn't done since Tyler's overenthusiastic paws copped a feel.

Hook slid one leg of the trousers up her limb, stopping at her knee. Emma then lifted her other leg and soon the man was standing again, securing the lacings below her belly button. The hems of the trousers brushed a couple of inches above her ankle, and she wondered if they belonged to Baelfire.

Before helping her with the top, Hook bandaged her wound and then carefully slid a white tunic over her head, reaching through the sleeves to pull her arms through.

"I don't have dresses, Miss Emma, but I did find this." Hook held up a black vest and from the style of it, Emma guessed it was designed for a woman. He threaded the leather through her arms and tightened the laces over her breasts. She stared down at herself and saw they were well-worn and a bit thin and rough, but they were clean.

"Let us take a trip on deck. We'll have Starkey fashion you a new sling."

* * *

**Twelve Days Later...**

The clouds were rolling in from the west. Hook stood at the quarter deck, resting against the wheel while the majority of his crew made ready for the storm.

He tore his gaze from the threat and swept it over the main deck, eyes narrowing on Emma and Baelfire. They were sitting on crates and facing each other, that blasted coconut in the boy's hands. Bae poked at it with a finger and then pointed at the sky while saying something or other to the girl. Whatever it was, Emma arched a brow and pursed her lips. The boy laughed and said something sounding like "I'm serious" and then tucked that stubborn piece of stray hair behind her ear.

In the twelve days since their first "adventure" in her cabin, bathing and dressing Emma had not grown easier. She still goaded him with that razor sharp tongue and to a normal fellow, would've killed the stirrings in his breeches, but her nudity accompanied with those words only made things more difficult. He knew he was a weak captain to take such lashing from a wee girl, but he must've been a sick man to _like_ it.

Alas, Miss Emma was not doing it for his own carnal benefit or even because she disliked him, which is what he thought at first. No. She said witty words to distract herself while he bathed her, dressed her, saw her at her most vulnerable. Yet, he wanted to laugh at every insult. She was _funny_. He knew she didn't mean to be, but she was. He wanted to kiss her and see if her launching insults at him was the only thing her tongue specialized in.

Hook knew he could never have Emma as long as they were in Neverland. Even if she remained for twenty more years, she'd still act young. Gods, Bae had been with him for over a century now, and he still rebelled like a self-righteous, adolescent cad. It gave Hook some conceited comfort the lad wouldn't be able to have Emma either. The boy was clearly besotted by her, yet Hook reckoned Emma would not instigate anything beyond a kiss. Not because she wasn't interested but because she had other things on her mind besides indulging in a young boy's fancy. In their shared moments together in her cabin, he'd come to know her better. He came to know her last name was Swan, and she hadn't parents. From infancy, she lived in many different places and often under unideal circumstances. Before coming to Neverland, she had planned to leave that life behind. Hook was still in the dark on the details of her arrival to this realm. He assumed she hitched a ride like all the others did, but he hadn't anymore information.

The storm drew closer and the air turned balmier. As rain pounded on deck and the crew swarmed about to keep it from flooding the levels beneath, Hook ordered Emma to her room. When the rain subsided and the crew started to wind down for the evening with rum and repeated tales of past lovers and adventures, Hook went to her cabin, finding the door partially open and ignited by a lamp light. Before entering, he heard Emma speaking slow and gentle.

"I think you should redo the line again."

"I've already done it three times," Bae said.

In a not so sweet and gentle voice, Emma replied, "Do it again."

Hook opened the door all the way and saw Emma sitting on the bed as Bae sat at the desk, inked quill in hand and hovering over parchment. The boy turned around in his seat, glowering. "She's making me write lines."

"Only because you have sucky handwriting." Emma stabbed Hook with a judgment stare. "Oh, my God, who taught him how to write, and did you sue them? Let me guess. It was you, and you're a lefty. Bae could only copy what he saw."

Like most things coming out of Emma's mouth, Hook only understood about half her rant. What he did know for sure was that she insulted him. Again. Viciously.

Bae burst into a fit of hysterics, the bloody traitor.

"Baelfire." Hook shot the boy a hard look and he sobered quickly. "I think it's time to bid Miss Swan a goodnight."

"Aye, captain," he said glumly and stalked out of the room.

When the lad was out of earshot, Hook said, "He can write, Miss Swan."

"He remembers how, I'll give him that." After a pause, she added, "My wound is closed enough, and my shoulder doesn't hurt as bad. I won't need your help tonight."

"You might overwork it and cause further damage," he warned.

"I doubt it'll happen by undressing myself."

"If you think you are healed enough, then I will no longer offer my services from now on." He bowed his head and went to leave. "Good night."

"Thank you," she said, catching him by surprise. "Every time you had to help me, all I could think about was how uncomfortable I felt. I hardly, if ever, thought about how it made you feel."

He stepped towards her. Gods, if she even knew what he felt and imagined. "Lass…"

Emma stood up from the bed to face him completely. She clenched her fist as if nervous. "I'm not going to apologize for how I treated you. I actually don't think I'll ever stop insulting you. It's how I cope because I'm uncomfortable around you."

Hook would have gladly taken her most malicious insult than hearing those last few words. He shook it off, though, and daringly took another step forward, reminding himself of who and what he was to his crew and ship, not what he wanted to be to her.

"I have no concern how bothered you are around me. I'm not going to walk on eggshells. The _Roger_ is my home, and I expect when your shoulder is entirely mended, you will return to the island as to not prolong any discomfort you are facing."

Emma licked her teeth behind closed lips and stared down at her feet. "That isn't what I meant."

He was in now in her space, penetrating eyes bearing down on her forehead. "No?"

She titled her chin back and met his gaze, shrugging and then lightly scoffing. "I know it bothers you that I prefer Bae's company over yours."

"It doesn't."

She nodded and rose up on tiptoes. "It does. And maybe I wouldn't if things were different." Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing his bottom lip causing his breath to catch.

"Emma," he whispered and brought his face closer to hers, their noses brushing. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh." She moved her digit and kissed him.

Hook groaned and ran his hook up her spine while his hand cupped the back of her head, forcing her to the side to deepen the kiss. Her mouth was soft and pliable and tasted of a summer's rain. Gods, he dreamed of this and more. He needed more. After twelve sodding days of torture, he couldn't stop and sure as hell wouldn't. She started this game, but he wasn't going to allow her to finish it without a fight.

Much to his delight, she slung her good arm around his neck and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. Hook stumbled the few feet to the desk and sat her down. His lips found her pulse and wetly nipped at her skin while he tugged on the laces of her trousers and slipped his hand up her tunic and rested it on her lower belly, his pinky brushing her curls. Gods, how he imagined what her nectar tasted like. Every time he had knelt to put on her trouser, he wanted nothing more than to lift a leg over his shoulder and bury his face into her heaven.

Emma grabbed his wrist and forced his fingers further down, moaning softly when he cupped her.

"Let me taste you, Emma. If not anything else, allow me this one treasure," he pleaded.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she rested her head against the wall behind her, spreading her legs further apart and arching into his touch. "Have you fallen in love with me?."

Hook had never gone so far as to deeply consider his new feelings for this new person that Bae thoughtlessly shoved into his life. He wanted to steer clear from such a destructive pathway of thought for so many reasons. Not only was Emma a child, he still loved Milah and swore vengeance upon her watery grave. Despite Bae's sobering presence, Hook wasn't about to bloody forget what the boy's father did. Some day he would get his chance to kill the Dark One, and he couldn't have Emma getting in the way of that.

"I care for you, Emma, but I don't love you."

Her eyelids flew open to reveal inhuman, glowing orbs. "Liar."

Hook stilled but it was too late. His hand was pulled out her trousers and the dagger sheathed at his belt was taken and pressed to his neck. The thing resembling Emma locked her legs around him, keeping him close. "Uh, uh, uh, Captain Hook! Don't move or I'll slit your throat."

"Where's Emma?" Hook growled.

"You figured it out much later than I thought you would. Very _unfortunate_ for me."

"Does he have her? You bloody demon, tell me now!"

"You should really reevaluate your priorities, Jones, considering Pan gave me the go ahead to end your miserable existence if things get too violent."

"Let him go," said a voice from behind Hook, and the thing pretending to be Emma unhooked her legs and faded into a smoky, humanlike figure. Pan's shadow. The window of the cabin flung open, and the figure escaped.

Hook whirled around and saw Pan standing in front of the closed cabin door, a malevolent twist to his mouth.

"Where's Emma?" he asked, drawing his sword.

"I don't have her. Having her on your ship is exactly where I want her to be."

"I sent her here during the storm. She hadn't left the cabin."

"Are you sure it was her you sent away?" Pan cocked an eyebrow. "The thing about tropical storms is that things can get confusing. A bit tussled, mind you. Emma had already left the main deck the moment the first rain drop fell, and it was only too easy for Shadow to take her form."

"You vile piece of vermin!" Hook backed Pan against the door, the tip of the sword touching the boy's sternum.

"Am I?" Pan chuckled and lifted his palms in surrender. "What does that make you, then? I think cradle-robber is sugar-coating it, don't you think?"

"Mind your business, lad."

"Everything and every _one_ in Neverland is my business, especially Emma," said Pan, the mirth from his features fading. "I thought it was a mistake when she came here, but I was wrong. It was destiny. It took me a few days to realize her importance, but when I did, I strengthened her and tested her vitality by killing the one thing she was fighting for. She didn't disappoint.

"But what I want from her can't be achieved in Neverland. I need her to go home and not only that, I needed her to make a friend. Baelfire. When I saw them together at Marooner's Rock, I just _knew_ like I knew young Bae would hear Emma scream when I yanked that arrow from her body. Like I knew he would come for her and beg you for her passage onto the ship. And I knew they would become very, _very_ good friends. What I didn't know, what I didn't count on was you. I wanted to be wrong, but I had to make sure. It's one thing to lust over a female after years of forced celibacy, mate, but it's another to fall in love. Who knew Milah's memory could be so easily erased by a sixteen year old tart who was never meant for you?"

"Get off my ship," seethed Hook.

"Or you'll skewer me?" Pan pinched the tip of Hook's sword and moved it away from his chest. "We both know that won't work and aside from checking up the _Roger's_ inhabitants, I've come to offer you a deal."

"I'm not interested."

"I'll give you seven days to think about my offer. I don't hear from you or you don't take it, my boys will invade the ship and kill everyone on board. With exception of Emma and Baelfire, of course. You and your crew, on the other hand." He grimaced. "Not so lucky, lad. My offer, Killian, involves you, your crew, Bae, and our fiery Emma leaving Neverland."

"That's a very _generous_ offer, Pan. There's got to be a catch."

"It wouldn't be a deal if there wasn't." Pan linked his hands behind himself and started to pace. "You, Captain Hook, have to bid farewell to the thing you love most."

The man quirked a brow. "Even if I were to take you up on your deal, how would my crew and I be able leave this godforsaken place without my ship?"

Pan barked out a sharp laugh. "I'm talking about Bae."

A tight, coiling sensation painfully wrapped around Hook's heart. "You said you didn't want him."

Pan nodded ruefully. "Where I'm getting at is when it's time to leave Neverland, you and Milah's little lost boy will go separate ways. I'm sending you back to the Enchanted Forest. Well…as close as I can, anyhow. My sources tell me there's been a complication there. You shouldn't have too much of problem. As for Bae, he's going back with Emma to the Land Without Magic."

Hook lowered his sword as the cogs in his mind began to turn. "You want me away from them. What are you playing at, Pan?"

Pan bared his teeth in a feral grin. "There's the deal. Take it...or leave it at your own bloody end. I'll be back at sundown in one week to collect your response. And, Hook? Don't be a fool about this. Think what's best for Bae _and_ for Emma since you are clearly partial to both." Pan leapt towards the open window of the cabin and jumped out, making a splash when he hit the water.


	6. Chapter 6

Hook found Emma curled up on McCormack' cot in the kitchen, an empty bowl and mug on the floor beside her. McCormack sat on a rum barrel, his back against the wall, a half-empty mug clutched in his meaty fist. Both were asleep. Hook watched Emma's chest rise and fall with each shallow breath and then drifted his focus to her face. The shadow had mimicked every detail about her, down to each freckle, yet he still should've known. The way she threw herself at him. Emma was sixteen and a forced warrior, not a brazen bar wench or lady of the night looking for an extra coin.

He contemplated leaving her there in the kitchen, unable to be so near her after what happened in her cabin. Nevertheless, the cook's cot wasn't suitable for a young lady, so he bent down and gathered her into his arms, deciding he liked the way she felt in them. She mildly stirred and rested her head on his shoulder. He carried her out of the kitchen and to her room, laying her slack body on the bed. After shutting the window and latching it, he turned off the lamp and closed the door and considered locking it but chose not to. He didn't want to give her any reason to be upset with him nor provide any incentive for her to return to the island.

Once retiring to his own quarters, Hook uncapped a bottle of rum and rehashed what took place with Pan. The demon showed some of his cards, but Hook was buggered to know what it all meant. Emma was never supposed to come to Neverland, but it was destiny she did? Until his crew fished Bae out of the water, Hook didn't believe in destiny. He had been a superstitious bloke, but people made their own choices. Then Baelfire boarded his ship like a sopping wet package delivered from the gods. This was Hook's chance to become familiar with the Dark One's weaknesses and also have the last piece of Milah left in the world. He could have both. He would have both, and he did have both. Even when the lad wanted to leave and insulted him, Hook bit his tongue and summoned Starkey and Smee to barricade Bae in the kitchen for a few hours to calm down. For a year after that, the boy ran away multiple time to the island and each time, Hook went after him and dragged him back to the ship before the Lost Boys and Pan could get their grubby hands on him.

Hook loved Bae as stubborn and obtuse as the blighter was but knew Baelfire didn't reciprocate. As captain of the ship, Hook most likely earned the lad's respect after a century, but Baelfire still harbored resentment. Just five months ago, he had shouted, _"None of us would be here if you had just left my mother alone!"_

Bitterly chuckling at the memory, Hook took a swig of rum. As much as he loved Milah, he was certainly paying a heavy penance for whisking away a married woman from a coward and a son.

Whenever Hook imagined leaving the island, Baelfire was with him, but that was a fool's wish. Hook would take Pan's offer. The monster obviously had something up his sleeve, but it didn't seem to require killing Bae or Emma which was enough for Hook. In a week's time, he'd tell Pan to take them away from this stagnant hell where they could thrive and grow. Hook _would_ see them again. Despite Pan's subtle hint of wanting him out of the way, Hook would find a way back to Bae and maybe Emma wouldn't be too far from him.

* * *

The next morning Bae's bunk was empty, striking panic in Hook and making his sluggish, hungover self become alert. He stormed into Emma's cabin to ensure she was there, only somewhat relieved to find her still in bed. However, the ruckus caused her to stir, and she groaned into her pillow.

"Go. Away."

He shook her arm and asked, "Do you know where Baelfire is?"

She slit one eye open and mumbled, "The island. He'll be back."

Kneeling beside her, he gently asked, "Emma, where does he go? What is he doing?"

"Tinker Bell, probably." She giggled sleepily and turned over to face the wall.

"This isn't a laughing matter. He could be in trouble."

Emma grunted and sat up, scowling at him with her cheeks flushed pink from sleep and her wild, blonde hair sticking up and out in every direction. Hook was reminded how young she really was and felt disgusted with himself on what he wanted to do with her the night before. It didn't help matters when she jammed her balled up fist into her eye and rubbed while yawning softly like an infant.

"Bae has talked to you more these past two weeks than to me in a hundred years. I don't know what he's told you about me, but I do care for him. If he's doing something dangerous, you need to tell me."

Emma sighed and then wrinkled her brow, confused. "This isn't where I fell asleep."

"Emma."

"Ugh! Fine. Yes. It's about that stupid colander, coconut thing he totes around. At first, he told me he was going to make some ghetto projection of the night sky with it. Cute, I know. But then he told me he was going to do something else with it, too."

"What?"

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. "He wouldn't tell me."

"Don't lie to me, Swan."

The girl raised a brow at the use of her surname. "I'm not." She swung her feet off the mattress and then stared at the desk, picking up a piece of parchment. "Someone's been chicken scratching in my room."

Hook yanked the page from her. "I sent Baelfire in to practice his writing while you were in the kitchen last night."

"He's needs to practice more," she said and started playing with the strings of her trousers. "I'm guessing it's almost bath time."

Hook swallowed, remembering what Pan's shadow told him the night before. "How is your shoulder?"

"The pain isn't as sharp, but there's a definite ache."

"Emma…" he began, yet the words wouldn't come out. He felt he should tell her about the shadow's ability to morph into a perverse mimicry of a person, but found himself incapable of speaking.

"Hook."

" _Captain_ , if nothing else," he managed, sighing.

"Killian?" she tried, laughing. "You told me to call you that at first."

"Aye, I did."

"I'm not going to. No one else calls you by your name. It would be weird if I did and…"

"And?"

"I don't know." She chuckled nervously. "Isn't there etiquette? Even on a pirate ship?"

"Indeed. It would be bad form _and_ give the crew false impressions about or alliance."

"Alliance?" She looked down at her feet. "Oh."

Hook felt her ever increasing uneasiness radiating off her. "Is there something bothering you?"

She shook her head, tugging at the collar of her tunic. "I'm…gross. The humidity yesterday, and it's worse today. I just want a bath."

Emma watched him leave to fetch the copper tub, anxiety twisting at her stomach. She wished these pesky inclinations would go away because that's what they were. Inclinations. These inconvenient "sort of" feelings simmering deep below the surface, tying knots in her chest and making her heart speed up. She mostly associated the reaction happening because of Hook's handsomeness. She wasn't blind. He was just older and a pirate. Intimidating was another word to describe him.

Emma wouldn't even call what she felt towards Hook a school-girl crush. It was a fascination. For two weeks, she'd been on board and hardly knew a thing about him. He was unapproachable and calling him Captain Jones or Killian wasn't going to fix that. Even when he showed her tenderness by washing her arm and back, she didn't have the guts to spout a single inquiry. He had asked her some, making somewhat polite conversation, and she answered vaguely. Her story was _not_ interesting. It was pitiful. The last thing she needed was another adult pitying her. Bae didn't pity her. Bae understood her, so she replied to Hook's questions with one-dimensional answers.

If Emma asked about anything, would Hook give her flat answers? She could try. In his time as a pirate travelling _realms_ —God, she couldn't even think it without snorting—what had he seen? What was in this Enchanted Forest he kind of talked about?

Hook returned with McCormack, the large man toting in the filled copper tub. He set it down and smiled toothlessly at Emma. "Milady," he said.

"Thank you."

Once McCormack left, Hook closed the door and removed his leather cloak before rolling up his sleeves and removing the hook from his brace while Emma tugged on the strings of her trousers. They slid down her legs and she kicked them off. She bent over and put them on the bed, doing the same with her vest. Hook then came towards her and helped her out of her sling and tunic, and she cradled her lame arm to her chest, taking his offered hand to get into the tub.

Hook settled into his ritual, pulling up a chair and some soap. Emma extended her arm and frowned when noticing how soft her muscles had become as he kneaded the soap into her skin.

"Too rough?"

"I'm getting squishy."

"Squishy?"

"I'm weak," she elaborated.

"You are many things, Swan, but weak isn't one of them," he said and Emma bit her lip, her stomach doing that awful knot-thing again.

"You know what I mean."

"You'll heal and when you do, you can build yourself again."

Hook moved the bar of soap to her shoulder and Emma asked, "What have you seen?"

"You're going to have to be more specific, Emma. If you're talking about here…" His smirk faded. "Forgive me."

Emma scowled at him, a flush heating her cheeks, and the idea of asking him about all the incredible things he may have seen in his lifetime got pushed aside. Instead, she thought of what Bae said the yesterday. The captain and Starkey were going to make trade with the Piccaninny tribe today.

"I want to go with you to the reservation," she said.

"If you're looking for sanctuary elsewhere, Miss Swan."

"They won't take me, I know. I want to trade with them." She paused when his scrubbing harshened. " _Hey!_ Watch it!"

"Sorry, lass, and no. You're going to stay on the ship. Besides, what have you to trade?"

Emma stuck her chin out stubbornly, resisting the urge to shiver as Hook soothed her abused flesh by thumbing semi-ticklish circles on her soapy skin. "I can get pearls. They love them. Tiger Lily, especially."

"And how have you bloody managed to get your little hands on pearls. My crew has dried out the coast. There isn't a single oyster left."

"You know, captain, there are ways to _make_ pearls."

He looked upon her as if impressed that she knew such a thing and smiled. "Aye, there is, but I'd rather not subject my crew to mermaids. Tell, me, Swan. Do you make them?"

"No. I haven't been here long enough, and I'd need oysters. There aren't a lot on the coasts of the island, like you said."

Finished with her arm, Hook travelled the bar of soap to her shoulder and then her back. "Then how do you procure them?"

Emma grinned wickedly. "I have my ways. Anyway, doesn't matter what you say. I'm going with you."

"You aren't."

"I am."

"I will lock you in this cabin. Take your clothes for good measure."

The grin on Emma's face melted away, morphing quickly into a thin, bemused line. With a flick of her good arm, she splattered water over the rim of the copper basin and onto Hook, drenching his face and vest.

"Do it and see what happens," she challenged.

"Blasted harpy!" He smeared a hand down his wet face.

"A little water is going to be the least of your problems if you keep me locked up."

Hook glared at her, putting aside to return the sentiment she bestowed upon him. Emma scrunched her face, chuckling again. "That's the best you can do? I'm already wet. You on the other hand..."

With a large hand, he grabbed her at the wrists and held tightly. He was no longer in his seat now but kneeling beside the tub. "I think I'll throw you out with the bathwater."

Emma slit her eyes and leaned closer, her chin nearly resting on the tub's rim. "You're all bark, Captain Hook, but you have no teeth. I'm going to the reservation."

The tip of his nose nearly brushed hers when he said, "It'll be a quick visit. You'll only slow us down."

"You'll get over it."

He clenched his teeth and without thinking, cradled the back of her slightly damp head and kissed her.

* * *

Emma did not go to the tribe with Hook and stayed secluded in her cabin, either laying in bed or pacing the small cramped space.

He kissed her!

Emma leapt from the bed and began to pace again, remembering how she froze the moment his mouth touched hers and his tongue traced her bottom lip. She pinched the flesh and recalled how Hook backed away from her as if painfully burned. His eyes had been wide, belaying the horrifying realization at what he'd done. He apologized and begged her forgiveness but understood if she declined.

Words had evaded Emma, and her mind moved fast and stickily slow all at once. All she could do was avoid his face and stare at her wet knees and shake as she curled her good arm over her injured one, hugging herself. She felt she should cry, lash out at him and call him all the profane names society taught her concerning grown men who kissed little girls.

No tears came, and she was not angry or frightened of him like she should be.

Emma was more frightened of herself. Neither had she encouraged the kiss or responded to it, but the sensation she experienced when Hook kissed her had stupefied her. Butterflies. Electricity. Pheromones. Definitely hormones. All of them punched her in the chest and shot up towards her brain, clouding her judgment and making that lukewarm fascination she held for Hook amplify into something wrong and forbidden.

When she failed to respond to his apologies, Hook asked if she wanted to finish up her wash and dress herself. Emma had nodded, and he left. She stayed in the tub until the water ran cold and then painfully maneuvered herself out of it. It took her ten minutes to get fully clothed and putting the sling in place. An hour later, she had seen from the window Hook and Starkey rowing their way to the island. After what happened, it was for the best she didn't go with them.

Why had he kissed her?

Emma sat back down on the mattress. She both wanted and dreaded the answer to that question. A part of her wanted the reasoning to be Hook's loneliness. A realm full of men and boys and a fickle fairy certainly didn't give Hook a lot of options in the romance department. Another part of her, equal in size, wanted him to actually like her. Being rejected for most of her life for whatever reason, it was nice to be liked, especially by an adult. A handsome adult.

Her growing feelings for the captain were not healthy, and she knew that. As a foster child and knowing other foster children, the situation regarding an inappropriate relationship between child and foster guardian was unique but not unheard of. Emma always believed herself to be above such idiocy.

Emma didn't see Hook as a foster dad or any kind of father figure to her, but he cared enough to carry her back to his ship, gave her a room separate from his crew, and catered to her so she'd heal properly. The generosity he'd given was more than she deserved and because he kissed her, he also gave her a different kind of intimacy she didn't know she wanted.

She shook her head and started to pace the room once more. It didn't matter why Hook kissed her. He shouldn't have, and she was going to put these reckless, misguided feelings for him behind her.

There was a knock on her door, and her heart plummeted into her gut. Oh, God. Hook was back already, and he probably wanted to talk about what happened.

"Emma, it's me."

"Bae!" She wrenched open the door and cupped his cheek, smiling at him before bending down slightly to kiss him. Three seconds later, she realized her kissing Baelfire this way was not unlike what Hook did to her. When the boy knocked on her door, her only thought had been to forget Hook's transgression and kissing Bae seemed like an all right way to do just that.

Emma pulled away with a wince and dropped her hand. "I am _so_ sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Baelfire stood there dumfounded and his coconut fell from his hands and tumbled to the ground, the halves separating rolling away from the two in different directions.

"Bae?"

"Hm? Oh." He shook his head and touched his lips. "It's all right, Emma. It's perfectly fine. May…I ask why you…" His voice trailed off, and he blushed deeply.

Emma certainly couldn't tell him the truth of what had been going through her mind. She could, however, say another truth that would answer the implied question and definitely not hurt his feelings.

"I wanted to, I guess." Truthfully, it was something she had considered in her two week stay on the ship. Baelfire was younger than her usual prospects, but he was sweet and smart and funny. He was the only boy in Neverland who hadn't tried to kill her. He, in fact, saved her life. Giving him a kiss was the least she could do.

She could see him swallow, and he lunged towards the floor to gather up his project, his hands shaking when trying to fit the coconut halves together. When he succeeded, he stuttered, "I-I-If you want to do it again, I'll be fine with that."

Emma chuckled and gifted him a lingering kiss on his cheek. She then pulled away and asked in a serious tone, "What _are_ you doing with the coconut? Have you figured it out, yet?"

"I think so. Tink told me something. I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before."

"What?"

"Trapping Pan's shadow. If I can do that, Emma, we can escape Neverland."


	7. Chapter 7

Hook returned to the _Jolly Roger_ after sundown, the cockboat heavy from meat, coconuts, fruit, vegetables, and freshwater. With the help of the crew, Starkey loaded the provisions onto the main deck where his men sorted through them while Hook scanned the deck and asked Mr. Smee if Baelfire returned.

"Early afternoon, captain. He went straight to Miss Swan's cabin."

"And how is Miss Swan today?" he asked.

"She kept to her room until Bae visited her. They ate lunch, he cared to his chores before returning to her cabin. Is she well, captain? It's unlike her to keep below deck for so long."

"I'm sure she's fine," Hook said quickly. Not a moment ticked by when his thoughts weren't on Emma while trekking through the island. He planned speeches and flowery apologies, pretty and heartfelt words to let her know how truly sorry he was for the kiss.

Truly sorry and truly buggered. What had he done? How could he be such an imbecile?

Yet, Emma's lips had been divine. The shadow hadn't been able to capture their true taste or texture. She tasted of sunlight on a hot day with a hint of something tart and floral.

Hook travelled below deck, lantern in hook, and saw Emma's cabin door closed. He opened it and crept passed the threshold, his focus landing on Emma. She was tucked beneath her blanket, and he contemplated in allowing her rest but what occurred needed to be addressed promptly. He put the lantern on the desk, the light hitting her partially uncovered face. Her eyelids twitched and then fluttered open, her gaze staring blankly at nothing in particular for a few moments before landing on him.

"May I sit?" He gestured to the chair beside him. "We need to talk about what happened earlier."

The girl bolted into a sitting position, her brow wrinkling. " _Why_ did you kiss me?"

Hook was taken aback by her abruptness. He had planned on being the first to address what happened followed by a sincere apology, concluding with the prospect of putting the situation behind them. Never had he thought about actually explaining why he was compelled to kiss her.

"Miss Swan," he began carefully, "your stubbornness this morning troubled me."

"So…" Emma folded her arms, befuddled. "Kissing me was the solution in keeping me from soaking you. To keep me from going to the reservation. I'm not sure I follow."

"I'd like to put this behind us. It's why I came to see you. I wanted to apologize. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me." He moved to get up from the chair but stopped when Emma shook her head.

"No, you didn't answer my question. You…" She crawled out of the covers and hopped onto the floor. "You kissed me for a reason. It wasn't to shut me up. Was it because you're lonely? Frustrated that you're lonely? You can tell me. I'm aware people react in certain ways when they don't have…relations?" She winced and scratched behind her ear. "I get it, really. I thought about it a lot today, and it makes sense. I'm not _mad_ , Hook, and you said you're sorry. I was shocked, I guess. I definitely wasn't expecting…that."

In her stumbled language, she was practically handing Hook an excuse, albeit a piss poor one. He should latch onto it, agree with her. As she said, she wasn't angry and understood some but very little of the limits of human restraint. Alas, he was Captain Hook, a feared pirate in many realms, but he was a lieutenant first. A gentleman did not kiss a lady because he was incapable of showing restraint after many years of forced celibacy. A gentleman wouldn't kiss a lady at all without her permission, but underneath his own wretchedness was Killian, a man. A man, indeed, had urges and for the briefest moment, Hook couldn't control that part of him because the lady in front of him was Swan, a troubled orphan girl who shot an arrow at him upon first sight and tossed insults as easy as breathing. He desired her almost as much as he had with Milah. Almost as much as avenging her.

Gods, the lass was going to be far worse than the death of him. Emma was going to be the loss of his identity. It buckled and groaned because of Bae, but Emma unknowingly dug into the bloody foundation of him and was sawing at his roots. Indeed, Pan was right. He needed to be away from her. Whatever reasons that demon had, Hook needed to regain his own.

His only hand seemed to disagree with him, for his thumb found her chin, caressing the pale skin. "That is not why," he whispered, all but spouting the depth of his affection. Gods, he was a self-traitorous tosser.

She paled noticeably and her breath quickened. Her mouth opened as if to speak but nothing came out, so he cupped her cheek. "In many ways, I failed today as a gentleman and the captain of my ship. I promise you, Emma, despite it all, I will never behave in such a way again."

Before he could let her go, she grabbed his hand and placed a hesitant kiss on the heel. She then pulled it from her cheek and laced her fingers through his. "I might…have feelings for you, too. But…um…it's…"

Torn between elation and terror by her confession, he said, "Bad form."

She let him go and took a step back. "Among other things."

"This morning will not be repeated. I will stay true to my word," he vowed.

Hook caught the disappointment flickering across her features and nearly broke his promise then and there, but then she firmly said, "I know," and he couldn't do it. Regardless of their amicable attraction for each other, they weren't fools. Engaging in an affair, even in Neverland where consequences of reality were minimal, would bring distress to both parties. He'd grow annoyed by her childish behavior. As endearing as it was to evoke a water fight and play a target for her petty insults, Hook liked his women more stable.

Emma would tire of him, as well. Outside of the bedroom, he wasn't particularly playful. He wasn't childlike and certainly didn't fancy running about like Bae, having little or no concern about being gutted while scouring the island doing gods no what. He'd admit to being a lost man, not a boy. And lost men and lost little girls were not complimentary.

Hook ducked his head in a slight bow. "I will allow you to retire for the night. I expect you still require assistance."

"Yes."

"Then I will see you in the morning, lass. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

The week breezed by with nothing more than a thick, dense ambiance of awkwardness. Emma no longer baited Hook with insults and, in fact, stayed silent for the most part, as did he. Their days were spent separated from each other until evening when Hook requested Baelfire leave Miss Swan's cabin. They were up to something, those two, but Hook didn't pay too much mind. They were safe. Bae hadn't left the ship since that one morning and today Pan would come for Hook's response.

When the sun started sinking into the horizon, Hook ordered his crew below deck while he dwelt on the main level waiting for Pan to show. Soon, he spotted a boat rowing towards the ship and peered through the spyglass, seeing Felix and Benjamin operating the oars. Hook allowed only Felix to board while the other stayed in the boat.

"Captain," Felix greeted in a hollow voice.

"Felix."

"How's the girl? Healing, I presume. I was careful in my aim."

Hook brought his hook to the boy's throat, imagining the vengeful thrill of driving a gaping hole into him. "We are to discuss Pan's offer. _I accept_."

Felix grinned. "And do you agree to his terms? You'll not put up a fuss when you're separated from our dear Emma and Bae."

Tasting bile on the back of his tongue, Hook agreed, "Aye."

"Pan will be pleased."

"When _do_ we leave this bloody place?"

"When the time is right. Everything will happen when it's supposed to. Until then, spend what moments you have left with Baelfire. With _Emma_."

Hook watched them row away before going below deck and checking in on Emma, surprised to find her awake and peering out the open window, her right arm resting on the pane. That morning she insisted on removing her sling, claiming she was healed enough to go without it and needn't his morning assistance any longer.

Emma spared him a glance and lamented, "The crying's louder than usual tonight. Couldn't fall asleep."

"Closing the window helps, love."

"It doesn't," she murmured and pushed herself off the wall. "What did Felix and Benjamin want?"

"They delivered a message from Pan." He smiled tightly. "Nothing to be concerned of."

"If you're going to lie, Hook, don't do it to me." She scooted by him and climbed into bed, wiggling beneath the covers.

He went to the desk beside her and extinguished the lantern. The lack of light somehow amplified the weeping coming from the island, and he closed the window and locked it. The moon was full and shown a direct ray into the cabin, illuminating the room enough to still see Emma.

"Does it bother you, the moon?" he asked.

Her lips pressed into an amused half-smile. "No. Should it?"

He shook his head and left the room, bidding her goodnight before closing the door and retiring to his cabin where he failed to achieve a wink of sleep until an hour or so before dawn. When he arose, he found Mr. Smee in the kitchen partaking of a pre-breakfast dish of bread, pineapple, and rum.

"Baelfire isn't in his bunk, sir."

Hook groaned and found himself a metal mug, hastily filling it with rum. "Bleedin' Christ, that child. He'll return eventually and when he does..."

"Another thing, sir," Smee interrupted. "I happened to walk by Miss Emma's cabin. The door was open, and I was curious. She's wasn't in bed either. A cockboat _is_ gone."

* * *

Emma followed close behind Baelfire as he led the way. To where, she wasn't exactly sure, but he seemed to know where he was going through the trees and bushes of Dreamshade. Though it was morning, there hadn't been any hint of sun when she and Bae made shore. It was dark, and they had to walk slow as to not cause to much of ruckus or incidentally brush up against something poisonous.

"Bae," she whispered uneasily. He may have his cutlass and dagger, but she was unarmed. She'd seen him spar and duel with the crew on the ship, and he was good. On the other hand, he was defending himself and not another person.

"Hmm?"

"How much farther?"

"We're almost there."

Another twenty minutes and they were standing at the base of a treehouse Emma had never seen before. Truthfully, she'd never been to this section of the island because it was too close to Dark Hallow. Bae stooped down and picked up a small rock and chucked it at the siding of the makeshift shelter.

"Tink," he shouted quietly.

"Come up," a woman voice beckoned.

Bae climbed the ladder and Emma went up after him, her shoulder somewhat aching but she managed just fine getting inside the treehouse and finally come face to face with Tinker Bell. The pixie was nothing like Emma pictured her. Firstly, she pictured the woman tinier. Yes, _Tink_ was shorter than both Emma and Bae, but she was still human-sized. Secondly, she didn't hold the kind of sass Disney portrayed her having. Actually, this Tinker Bell radiated a lost and bitter aura about her, even some regret and sadness, too. It seemed to Emma, not only did Disney get everything wrong, but so did Barrie.

"I'm Emma," she introduced.

Tinker Bell stared at her a long time before saying to Bae, "Shadow brought her from the Land Without Magic?"

"Yes."

The woman frowned. "Huh. Well, did you bring it?"

Bae opened his satchel and pulled out the two coconut halves, and Tink placed a small, stout candle in one of them. "The Shadow is compelled to go towards light," she said.

"Which is why it keeps to Dark Hollow," Emma said uncertainly and Bae nodded.

Tinker Bell picked up a lit candle from the floor beside a cot and ignited the wick inside the coconut. Bae then covered the flame with the peppered half and looked up at the ceiling. "It worked," he said, laughing lightly.

Emma followed his gaze and smiled at the star-like flecks on the rotting, splintered wood. Her wonder then eased away when not recognizing anything from the projection. She was far from being able to navigate by the night sky, but she had become more familiar with the constellations and certain stars while aboard the _Jolly Roger_. After critically eyeing the lights, she was able to find Cassiopeia and Orion but not where they were supposed to be.

Tinker Bell seemed to have lost interest, for she looked away and said, "I haven't enough water for all of us. I'll be back, and I'll make us some tea. Do you like tea, Emma?"

Emma nodded and the moment the pixie left the treehouse, she blurted, "Bae, this doesn't make sense."

He beamed at her, like he was proud she noticed. "I encoded the projection. Only I can decipher it. Here." He carefully handed her the coconut, the shell warm in her hands. He came up close behind her and put a careful hand on her healing shoulder, his opposite finger pointing at a random star. "Recognize that one?" he whispered into her ear.

"It's um…" She chuckled and then cleared her throat. "Arcturus."

"And that one?"

"Fomalhaut?"

"How about that one?"

"Pollux."

His lips were nearly touching her earlobe, and he corrected, "Castor."

"Castor," she repeated and then stooped down to balance the coconut by their feet.

"Emma, may I…"

She straightened and then cupped his face, kissing him fairly this time unlike the last time she threw herself at him. That time, Hook plagued her spirit, and in many ways, he still did. Her feelings for him were as strong as they had been when she confessed to liking him, too, a week ago. Yet, until she left Neverland, she would always be almost seventeen, and he would be…

Emma had no idea how old Hook was, in years or physically. Either one wasn't promising. Even _when_ she returned to her world and started aging again, there wouldn't be a place for either of them in each other's lives. Their physical age gap, if anything, was too severe.

Would Hook go with them when she and Bae left? Did he want to go to a place where there wasn't magic? Would he take on the challenge just to get out of this godforsaken hell of a shit-pit? Emma tried picturing him in normal clothes and doing mundane activities like waiting in line at Starbucks, picking up bacon cheeseburgers and Oreo milkshakes at the drive-thru, and drunkenly yelling at the television broadcasting a Red Sox game.

It occurred to Emma, rather belatedly, that she was pondering Hook again when kissing Bae and, therefore, not making their second kiss any more genuine than the first. As if to make it up to Bae, she deepened the kiss and put her hands on his shoulders and then skimmed them down his arms, reaching his palms and placing them on her waist. He gave her an experimental squeeze before pulling her into a more intimate embrace. Emma had to tilt her head to achieve better access to his mouth and then did some experimenting of her own by sliding her tongue out and pricking it with his. He bristled and backed away from her, panting heavily.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her mouth and eyes landing below his belt and then promptly covered her reddening face. "I'm really, _really_ sorry. I didn't think you would…"

"I'm just going to…stand over here."

Emma looked through her fingers and saw Bae standing in the corner leaning against the wall. His forehead was smashed into the crook of his arm, and he continued to breathe heavily. She was grateful he had the sense not to take care of the predicament in front of her. She had no idea if he even had "the talk" yet or Hook even believed it necessary because Neverland was predominantly XY. Or maybe Hook hadn't needed to give the woebegone, embarrassing tale of _The Birds and the Bees_ and Baelfire got that from his actual dad.

Or maybe Bae simply had no idea what was happening to his body.

Emma had lived with enough pubescent males to know that this situation should not be a completely foreign concept to Bae. He was an almost fifteen year old boy. He had to know _something_.

She sat down on the floor, folding her legs in front of her and stretching her arms behind her to lean back and stare at the faux starry night and then peered out the glassless window, noticing a dark fluttering in the nearest tree branch. She puckered her lips, rolled her tongue, and let out a purring hoot. The fluttering dark figure launched towards her and perched on her shoulder.

"Hey, you." She rubbed her fingertip underneath the pigeon's beak. "Miss me while I've been away?"

The pigeon released a purring croon, and she chuckled. "All right. Keep watch over him, would you? Hey, Bae. Your captain just reached the southern shore. I think he's looking for us."

The bird flew away and Baelfire finally joined her on the floor, a deep crimson tint on his cheeks. "Is it common where you're from to communicate with birds?"

"No. Not even a little. There are those who claim they can talk to animals, but they're a bunch of quacks. Until I came here, I didn't even know I could." Emma shrugged.

"Where I'm from, it's not strange. Birds, they're used as messengers and can understand you, but many people can't understand them. My father...they could talk to him. He could understand like you."

Emma regarded with a curious look. "You hardly talk about him, your dad."

"You don't either."

"Why would I talk about your dad?" Emma snorted and playfully punched Bae in the shoulder. "When I said I was an orphan, I meant it. I don't know my parents."

"Do you think you'll ever find them? Do you even want to? I guess I should ask."

"Find them? I haven't..." She frowned and shook her head. She hadn't even thought about doing that. They abandoned her on a roadside. They clearly didn't want her, but a small part of her hoped they regretted their decision in giving her up.

"I don't know," she managed with a heavy sigh. "I should probably do other things first. Like school."

"School? Like...like tutors?" Bae asked uncertainly and Emma nodded. "I'm going to London."

"Uh…okay," she said, amused. "Can you drop me off in Boston first?"

"Come with me."

"To London?" She chuckled and bit her lip, shaking her head.

"There's no reason we can't go together."

"Bae," she said and shifted so she was sitting more comfortably, "London isn't like how you remember it. A lot has changed. The Darlings aren't going to be there."

His face puckered, and she knew he wanted to argue with her. He soon shrugged and said, "I think my captain will like it there. It wouldn't just be you and me. It would be all of us."

Emma was surprised to hear him say such things. Yes, Bae made it known he wanted the captain and crew to leave Neverland, too, but he never said he wanted to still be around Hook. Bae had bitterly but vaguely told her about the indiscretion between Hook and his mother Milah, and Emma presumed Bae would rather be separated from his guardian than continue to be under his home-wrecking thumb.

Despite the grudge Bae had against Hook, it occurred to Emma that Bae didn't hate Hook. Not even a little and nowhere close to it.

"We could be a family," Bae added.

"Oh, Bae," she said, shaking her head. Did he even know what that word meant? Did anyone know in Neverland what that meant? She sure as hell didn't. "I don't know. We'll see, okay?"

Tinker Bell returned not two minutes later and prepared two bowls of tepid tea. Emma held back from asking her questions. It's not every day a girl has tea with a well-known and beloved fairytale character. She had wanted to do this with Ariel, too, but the point was moot considering the mermaid couldn't speak.

"You can leave, too, Tink," Bae said after finishing his tea.

The woman looked both hopeful and goddamned terrified. "I can't leave," she finally said. "I was banished here. This is my punishment."

"Neverland is your punishment?" Emma frowned. What could this itty bitty person have done to deserve such a fate? Why not kill her instead? When she glanced at Baelfire, he seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"I don't want to talk about it." She stared at her hands and then said, "You two should go soon. The sun's almost up."

Once Emma and Baelfire climbed down the tree, Emma pointed in a random direction. "The reservation. It's that way, isn't it?"

He laughed. "No. Why?"

"I want to trade." She bit her lip and pointed somewhere else. "The beach, right?"

"Sure, but going through the island will take less time if you want to visit the tribe."

"I'm not worried about time," she said and trudged through some bushes, making her own pathway. Ten minutes later, she began to recognize her surroundings and picked up the pace towards the south-eastern shore. A half hour later, they were near the water and Emma picked up a large seashell.

"Tink told me if you blow into one, you can catch a squid," Bae offered.

"What the hell would I need a squid for?"

"The ink. The rumor is that it can trap even the most powerful of beings." A beat later, he added, "Like Pan."

Emma arched a brow, mildly intrigued but only just that. "Take it from me, Bae. Unless the ink can kill him, he's not worth the effort."

"You sound like Hook."

"Of all the things your captain is, he's not an idiot. So thanks." Emma brought the operculum close to her mouth and whispered into it. Seconds later, Ariel emerged and smiled brightly at her, like she was relieved. She paddled closer to the shore, an expectant expression upon her features.

"I was hurt and couldn't come," Emma explained, working her way into the water, her legs soaked from the knee down. "I'm fine now, but I need pearls if you got some."

Ariel spared Bae a distrustful glare before opening her satchel and loading Emma's palm with at least thirty pearls.

"You've been hoarding in my absence. Thank you," Emma said and then hugged her. "For everything."

Emma and Baelfire hiked the eastern outskirt of the island and by mid-morning, they reached the Piccaninny reservation where Emma traded the pearls for a new bow, a full quiver, a satchel, a small vial of hair rinse, and two small wedges of chocolate. One for her and one for Bae. Nearly an hour after they left the tribe and headed back down the eastern part of the island, the hooting pigeon from that morning circled them, stopping Emma in her tracks and her heart sinking low in her stomach.

"Are you sure?" she asked and the bird hooted again.

"What's wrong?" Bae asked.

Emma gripped her bow, the other grabbing at the sling of her quiver. "Hook. He's at the south spring. He's in trouble."


	8. Chapter 8

Emma wasn't sure what to expect when reaching the spring's clearing. She could've stopped her sprint and summoned a bird, but there hadn't been any time. Whatever greeted her, she needed to be prepared. Despite her and Bae's running, too much time had gone by since the pigeon warned them. God, what if it was too late? What if Pan killed him? Or some lost boy? Or he stupidly fell into a Dreamshade bush? Or worse, was taken to Echo Cave because Pan was bored?

They reached the clearing, both coming to an abrupt stop. Emma saw Hook face-first on the ground, Starkey a feet away in the same position. Standing above Hook was Benjamin and another lost boy Emma knew to be named Tomas. Benjamin took a step back as Tomas plucked Hook's sword from the man's discarded sheath and wielded the blade towards the pirate's neck.

"No!" Bae screamed.

Emma ripped an arrow from her bow, took aim, and released. Tomas staggered and fell onto his back. Grey feathers of the shaft stuck out from the middle of the boy's chest. His body seemed to sink into the muddy earth like dead weight.

Benjamin gaped at his fellow lost one, his face pinching into a quivering frown as he aimed at her with a crossbow, but he too lurched to the ground, suffering the same fate as his fallen comrade.

Emma dropped her bow like it was on fire and covered her mouth, screaming, horrified by what she'd done. She fell to her knees and vomited. What the hell had she done? She killed two people. Two kids! They weren't like Pan. They weren't monsters. They were just lost. Like she was. She hadn't been thinking. She hadn't thought to aim superficially. All she knew was to save Hook

Her inner rant was cut short when being forced to stand and violently embraced by Bae. He forced her back to the scene, and she could feel the strong, wild beat of his heart against her ribcage.

"It's all right," he said unconvincingly.

"What have I done?" she whispered. She buried her face in his shoulder.

Bae pulled away. "I have to see to the captain, Emma."

She stood rigid as Bae treaded towards Hook. He bent down and carelessly rolled him over, roughly shaking him. "Captain, wake up," he said.

Hook stirred, eyes flying open. He slowly curled into a sitting position, cupping the back of his and swearing vehemently, "Bleedin' Christ! Bae?"

"What happened?" the boy asked, backing away towards Starkey's form.

Hook's features darkened, darkly-rimmed eyes slitting while his jaw clenched. "Leave him be. He's not waking up." He scanned his surroundings, instantly spotting the two dead boys not far from him. Emma saw him zero in on the arrows and felt the slicing cut of his horrified gaze when it landed on her. He scrambled to his feet with the help of Bae, and she folded her arms around her stomach and looked down.

"Emma, lass, what did you do?"

"What did _you_ do?" asked Bae who was towering over Starkey, and Emma noticed a jagged, gory gash on one side of the man's neck when the boy flipped him over.

"I said leave him, Bae!"

"You killed him?"

"We need to go." Hook grabbed Bae's arm, but the boy stubbornly refused to budge. "Before Pan or Felix get here and extract their revenge."

Emma caught his stare, ice spreading throughout her body. God, he stared at her like she wasn't even human anymore. Like everything he claimed to care about concerning her was no longer relevant because it was gone. He stared upon her like every single foster parent had done in the past—like a troubled, depthless stranger.

Hook's words seemed to shake out Bae's tenacity for the time being, and the boy appeared to have entirely forgotten about Starkey in favor of Emma in the space of three seconds. He grabbed the handle of his cutlass and said, "You're right. Emma." He jogged over to her and tugged at her wrist. "We have to get back to the ship. Now."

She nodded, not saying a word as he pulled her out of the clearing and on to the pathway back to the beach. Hook followed close behind with her quiver and bow. She could sense his eyes on the back of her neck, but she dared not, wished not to see that soul-shattering look again.

In the thick, hazy fog of her guilt, selfishness sprung forth, and a part of her was affronted by his apparent shift towards her. How dare he judge her?! He was a pirate! How many lives had he taken in his bicentennial? How may lost ones truly lost themselves at the point and curve of the captain's hook?

Emma wanted to whip around yell at him. She hadn't wanted to kill those boys. Her body did it without permission like an evolutionary, innate reflex.

It was absurd and if there wasn't sick lodged in the back of her throat, she'd laugh or choke at what she was thinking. Emma reacted the way she did because her mate was threatened.

"I killed them because I love you, you hypocrite!" she wanted to scream at Hook. Her confession, even though to herself, did nothing but harden that icy buildup inside her gut and chest. What a horrible, terrible feeling. People actually liked this? People wanted this? Who would want this? So burdensome, her knees shook from the weight of all of it.

God, she couldn't wait to get out Neverland. When they left. When they all left and returned to her world, Emma was not going to go with Hook and Bae. She didn't want to be a family with them but wanted to be left alone and move on from this place. Bae may have held her tight after she succumbed to her animal, but Hook hadn't. She didn't want to be around a constant reminder of how she failed at love for the first time by fully embracing the Lost Girl.

When they pushed the cockboats onto the sea and rowed towards the Jolly Roger, Emma took a minimal amount of comfort in the fact that she was still young and had plenty of time to fall in love again. Hopefully next time it would be, not only more appropriate, but less everything else. Loving Hook-caring for him-was like being diagnosed with cancerous tumors and given months to live. The situation was far too dramatic and unrealistic for her. She needed to let herself bite the big one, dump the soap opera gig, and find herself a role in a new life meant for a normal teenage girl.

* * *

Their arrival without Starkey set the crew off in a buzz, every member bombarding Hook with questions and demanding an explanation. It didn't take long or very many sips of rum for him to drunkenly snap and hoist himself up on a crate and start shouting at the men.

"Listen up, you bilge-infected curs! I'll only say this once, and whoever dares to utter another inquiry will live long enough to see his entrails coiled around my hook! Starkey sought to remove me from my station, and I showed him what it means to betray Captain Hook! You lot best keep in mind that you display even the smallest amount of disloyalty to me, to this ship, I will deliver the same sentence and be sure you're still alive when I throw your twitching carcasses to the mermaids to feast upon your souls!"

Emma had never seen him like this. Sure, she'd seen him yell and bark orders at the crew, but she'd never witnessed such a threat and believed it. Pirate, indeed, she mused bitterly.

Standing at the top of the stairs, she discreetly crept down below deck one step at time and threw herself into her cabin and locking the door, yelping when seeing Bae at the desk. His head rested on his arm, and her satchel lay close to his elbow. Its opening was unraveled, and she could see the Shadow Trap inside.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said. "I don't want to be up there. It's…loud when he's like that."

Emma didn't want Bae to be there in her cabin. She wanted to be alone where she could replay her murders over and over again in her head without distraction, without someone telling her everything was going to be fine. Yet, honestly, that was what she really wanted but didn't deserve it.

"How can you stand to be near me after what I did?" she asked, resting her back against the door. "It wasn't an accident no matter how much I want to think it was."

"You're not a bad person, Emma. I know you did what you thought you had to, and you saved somebody as a result."

"A pirate." Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes as a way to hide behind how much she actually cared for said swashbuckler. "Yeah, I'm a goddamn hero, Baelfire."

"You are."

She chuckled, the mirthless emotion wracking her chest painfully. She shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. She was crying. He made her cry, the idiot, and decided it must've been a good time to stand up from the desk and finally face her. He walked over to her and hugged her, and it was nice. Emma found herself leaning more into him, and she sighed his name in exasperation when he rubbed her back.

"Hmm?"

She broke from his comforting hold and went to the bed and laid down. She patted the small but substantial space next to her, inviting him to join her. He appeared torn, both evidently frightened and eager. If the first won him over, she wouldn't fault him.

Not a few seconds later, he joined her and she rolled over onto her other side to face the wall. She was so tired but knew nightmares would plague her sleep. Nevertheless, her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell into an unrestful slumber. When she awoke to Bae rubbing her back again, she guessed her nap hadn't been long. He must've tried to soothe her when she started dreaming.

He was so good to her. She appreciated him, she really did. She only wished she could appreciate him the way he deserved. Her feelings for him were genuine. Kissing him was not a chore, and Emma wasn't so naïve to think a person could only romanticize one person at a time. She loved Hook and she liked Bae. It wasn't a crime. It was just complicated, and Emma was not handling it perfectly, but she could be doing a whole lot worse.

Bae's hand incidentally brushed the skin of her lower back between her trousers and where her tunic flipped up. When he tested the waters purposefully the next time, Emma bit her bottom lip and started loosening the laces of her vest.

Speaking of worse…

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied stupidly. Shit, what was she doing? "The vest. It's not comfortable to sleep in." Or to do anything in like breathing. "I'm just loosening it up a little. No big deal."

Ten minutes had to have gone by before Bae resumed in rubbing her back, this time safely below her shoulders. Another five before his fingers found the section of skin again and soon he was skimming an inch underneath the vest. Emma sort of smiled. It felt all right, but he really had no idea what he was doing.

Neither did she. She did know that she preferred to be rubbed higher. A lot higher. On the shoulder blades and the space in between.

Give it time, she mused. He would find his way there eventually. With any luck, before bedtime when Hook realized Bae was not in his bunk.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Emma shuddered when Bae started caressing her where she wanted. He then froze and asked, "Is this allowed?"

Confused by his question and aggravated he stopped, Emma craned her neck and shoved her face into her pillow for a two seconds and then replied, "Yes."

He started again, and she relaxed, exhaling in content. Twenty seconds later, his ministrations ceased again, and he asked, "Are you sure this isn't bad form?"

"Bae," she huffed and inelegantly rolled over to face him. She grabbed his right hand and put it on her left breast. Even though there was a sturdy leather vest and a tunic acting as a barricade, she blushed at her own boldness. "This is bad form."

In a blink, his cheeks went from pleasantly pink to full on scarlet. She moved her palm off his, wondering how long it would take him to move it.

…

…

…

…

Realizing he wasn't going to, Emma guided his hand again, this time between the vest and tunic. Her breath quickened and she relayed, "This is unacceptable. And this…" Both their hands delved underneath the last layer, and Bae said her name in protest. Unfazed, their journey never even touched her ribcage but circled her stomach and went up her spine to place between her shoulder blades. "This is fine."

Her actions had brought them closer in proximity, and she kissed him. They pressed themselves closer to each other to the point Emma found it all too tempting and natural to maneuver herself on top of him align herself comfortably over him. His hand was still up the back of her tunic, and he started his ministrations again along with opening his mouth further, and Emma took it as permission to repeat what she'd done earlier that morning.

Bad form, Emma contemplated and parted from him, only to rest her forehead against his. They stayed that way for a few minutes until she wondered if she was squishing him. She moved off him and closed her eyes and fell asleep, the lull deeper but not any less dreadful than the last. When she stirred awake, she instantly took note that Bae was still in bed with her and from the sounds of his even breath, out cold. She carefully turned away from her cuddling with the wall and looked at the window, a hint of morning lighting the cloudy, weeping sky. It must've rained all night, the cabin dank with the slightest nip in the humid air.

Emma was surprised to find Bae still in her quarters, assuming Hook would've sought him out to rest assure he was safely tucked away in his bunk after everything that happened the previous day.

She frowned, something about the door catching her attention. It was unlocked. She had latched it when she came storming in last evening. As far as she knew, Bae hadn't left her side all night or the room for that matter. Hook was the only one who had a key to the room. He must've paid a visit in the dead of night and not bothered or hadn't cared enough to call out the cabin boy on his bad form.

Emma quietly crept off the bed as to not disturb Bae and left the cabin. She was thirsty and probably wouldn't deny a slice of bread. The last thing she remembered putting anything into her body was Tinker Bell's tea.

McCormack wasn't anywhere to be seen in the kitchen but she found her tin mug and dipped into a barrel of water. Once her thirst was satiated, she rummaged through the cupboards and spotted Smee's private stash of bread and honey and shamelessly stole a thick, crusty morsel and drizzled zigzags over it with the golden-y syrup.

She heard someone pass through the swing door behind her. If it was Smee, she would childishly open her stuffed mouth and show him what she'd taken. If it was McCormack, she'd share. Unfortunately, though, it was neither.

"We need to talk," Hook said and she set down her half-eaten plate, swallowing.

"I don't want to," she replied firmly. "You can't make me."

He arched a brow at her, as if to say he very much could. "I'll not force you, but it would be good for you to talk to someone."

"To who? You?" Her voice rose sharply, and she became extremely aware of the muffled voices of some crew members out in the hallway. She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head.

"We can go somewhere more private. I know we both have words needing said," he whispered, his tone starkly different than how he spoke the night before when verbally fileting his crew.

"I already know what you have to say to me."

"Do you?"

She took her plate and went to pass by him when he looped his hook around her elbow and drew her close to him. His lips ghosted over her forehead, and he said, "I will escort you to my quarters. You don't want to speak, fine. I'll do all the talking."

"No," she said petulantly and followed him to his cabin anyway. He couldn't do this to her. She had written him off. How dare he be gentle and caring after his apparent retract of infatuation? If there was one thing Emma hated in a guy, it was mixed signals. They didn't know how to do it and keep girls interested, and she wasn't anymore.

All right, she still loved him but wasn't interested in keeping it a thing during the rest of her time in Neverland.

When Hook closed the door behind them, Emma realized she hadn't ever actually been inside the captain's quarters. It was twice, maybe two in-a-half, times the size of her room. In the middle of the room was a table covered in a map. The bright flames from the lanterns helped her make out the land markings on one. Her fingers skimmed the parchment and hovered over Misthaven. Beneath the title in smaller, loopy letters, the Enchanted Forest. Her pointer finger tapped on certain points of the land mass and she incredulously asked, "How many kingdoms are there here?"

"Enough for a pirate to keep coming back. Although," he came up beside her and tapped the name King George, "I do prefer the gold from this kingdom."

"From the look on your face, I'm assuming it's not because it's any more special than the others. Do you have words with the king, also?"

"I have words with many, Swan."

The names of the kingdoms meant nothing to her, but she did do a double take when reading Ogre Territory. She tossed a disbelieving stare at Hook. "Ogres. They're real?"

"Aye. Bloody disgusting creatures. A long time ago Misthaven's kingdoms kept restricting their land, and they rose up and stared a war. It was a retched time, children in the trenches and ultimately carted off the battlefield in pieces." Hook seemed far away at that moment, rubbing his lips and then chin. He cleared his throat and continued. "It ended."

"The Enchanted Forest won, I'm guessing."

"Neither side won. It just ended."

"Were you a part of it?" Was that why he was acting so weird? He was in the trenches?

"No. There was only talk of it when I was a lad and young man. It broke out not long after I pledged myself to the sea, ship, and riches of all and any kingdoms."

Emma backed away from the map, spotting a large shelf acting as a wall, compacted with books. "What a horrible place," she murmured and decided she'd rather browse through his selection of reading material. What did pirates like to read?

"About yesterday, Swan," Hook tried and she pulled a random book from the shelf, flipping it open and actually getting giddy from the musty smell and yellow tapering of the pages. Her teachers in school always got after her for not reading, but she did. She just never bothered with the textbooks. She liked novels of adventure, fantasy, mystery, and historical fiction. Not heavy paperweights with crude phrases such as 'suck my dick' and drawings of blood-dripping swastikas in the margins like her old biology book.

"What language is this in? Latin? You read Latin? Huh." She put the book back in favor of another and skimmed over the German-like scrawls. She flipped a few pages and stopped when seeing an inked sketch of a sword lodged deeply in the stone. She hastily flipped the page over and read a familiar word.

Camaalot.

"Cool," she said and wiggled the book at him. "Some of our legends are the same."

"The tales of Camelot are not legend. They're quite real."

"Maybe to you."

"I've been there."

Emma glanced at him and put the book away, smiling quizzically. "Where else have you been? Atlantis?" She took another book and saw pages upon pages of mathematics before Hook took it from her.

"I know what you're doing." He set the book aside.

"I don't want to talk."

"And I said I would. Let me."

"I'm not stopping you."

"You won't look at me."

"Is that a requirement?"

"I'd prefer you would at least try."

"Why? So you can look at me like every other person in the world that's met me?"

He cupped her face and forced her to look at him. "What way is that?"

She sighed and shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

His thumb caressed her jawline, and he said, "I killed Starkey."

"I'm sure every person in these realms you talk about know. You kind of screamed it last night." She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

"But you don't know why."

"He betrayed you. He wanted your ship. He wanted-"

"You."

"…what…?"

"Those boys. You killed them. Why?"

Too many thoughts were happening at once, and Emma couldn't cope. She shirked his hold and pressed her back against the bookshelf, eyeing the door of the cabin. He blocked her view and said, "Don't even try for it, lass. Answer me."

She covered her face. "I don't want to talk! Please let me go back to my cabin!"

"You mean back to Baelfire."

She scowled. "It's none of your business."

"Everything on the _Roger_ is my business, Swan. Don't you forget that, and on the ship there is some level of propriety that will be respected."

"When it suits you," she fired back. "I shudder at imaging about many times you violated that code. No, you're jealous, and you have no right to be, Hook! We're not going to happen ever! If it makes you feel better, Bae and I won't either because he's too young! Even if we left Neverland, I would never go with either of you!"

Hook quieted her by slamming his palm and hook against the shelf on either side of her head. "Why did you kill those lads, Swan?"

She glared hatefully at him.

"Come on, lass. For someone who didn't want to talk, you sure as hell nearly deafened me with your spew."

"They were going to do the same to us," she hissed. "But there is no excuse for what I did."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Well, perhaps adding to the truth then."

"I'm not. Benjamin tried to shoot me with his crossbow, and I defended myself."

"And Tomas?"

"Tomas was an ass!"

"And, therefore, deserved such a brutal fate."

Exasperated, Emma let loose a sharp groan and covered her face again. "He was going to kill you! He took your sword and was going to kill you, but I killed him first! Benjamin was upset and tried to shoot me, and the rest you know!"

"You killed them to save me," he said.

"And me."

"Why?"

"Oh, my God! Whatever you had to say to me, do it now! I'm not talking anymore!"

"Why?" he repeated and she shook her head and darted under his arm, but he grabbed her and easily pinned her back to the bookshelf. "Why?"

"You're hurting me."

"Tell me, Swan, and I will let you leave!"

"There's nothing to tell, Hook! I was scared you were going to die, and I reacted! What do you want from me?!"

"The real reason why you-"

"Because I love you!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains implicit sexual content involving a minor and an adult.

Before his death, Starkey had told Hook in great detail of how he'd extract Emma's virtue from her. Not five seconds into his tale, Starkey lay bleeding on the ground near the south spring, struggling for life.

The man who knew him as not just Captain Hook but Lieutenant Jones and Killian, betrayed him and sold him out to Tomas, the late Rufio's brother. Said lost boy emerged from the shrubbery with Benjamin. He'd dueled with both, but Benjamin managed to get the better of him and knocked him out with his club. When Hook was jostled, he awoke and saw Bae hovering over him, Starkey long dead, and Tomas and Benjamin on the ground with arrows imbedded in their chests.

Emma had stood paralyzed and pale, a bow at her feet. With the exception of the bow, she mimicked such a state in Hook's cabin. He coerced her into revealing the truth and the depth of her feelings towards him. It was all rather selfish, cruel even, of him to press her in the way he had. Aside from his own infatuation deepening as well as his pride inflated by her confession, nothing beneficial could come it. And yet, her claim washed over him, sending a shiver down his spine.

Hook went to run the backs of his fingers over her cheek, and she recoiled before slapping him soundly.

"I hate you!"

He rubbed his smarting skin and chuckled, endeared. "To be loved and hated by the same girl. What's a pirate to do with such passion?"

She went to strike him again, and he stopped her, clutching her wrist tightly and bringing the fingers to his lips. "You saved me," he said, nipping at the digits. "Thank you."

"Let. Me go!"

Hook then broke the promise he made to her a week ago and laid claim to her mouth, coaxing her lips open to taste the warm, wet cavern. She tasted of honey and grain from her breakfast. He nipped at her bottom lip and then the tip of her tongue. He pressing her form against the bookshelf, trapping her. After letting go of her wrist, her arms came up and looped around his neck, pulling him even closer. He mumbled her name like an oath and moved his lips to her jawline, tasting the lightly freckled skin before finding her pulse and scraping his teeth over the delicate blue veins. He could feel the excited thrum when he pressed his tongue against it.

"H-Hook?" she stammered, and he sensed her unease.

"Killian," he corrected and resumed his work on finding another spot on her neck to keep her from thinking to clearly. Her breath quickened when brushing his nose against a spot right below her ear. There it was. Sucking on the small section of skin, he smoothed his hand and hook over her subtle curves and picked her up when reaching the backs of her thighs and was torn on where to deposit her.

Again, he reminded himself she wasn't a besotted tart wanting a quick and dirty roll with Captain Hook. From what he gathered in the weeks of her stay on the Roger, she was decidedly un-plucked. When he placed her on his duvet and soaked in her flushed beauty along with her painfully apparent youth, he internally vowed her maidenhead would stay intact. However, he'd not deny himself an opportunity to taste more than just her mouth. He had to sample, even if not completely, what she'd ultimately give another man when she'd return to her realm.

She'd marry, Hook was certain. He was unfamiliar with her realm or their customs but in his, young women with such refined and striking features were whisked away by gentlemen far before their twenty-first year. Even in her lower standing as an orphan, she'd easily fetch a high societal man if she played her cards right.

When he'd find Emma and Bae after the Crocodile's demise, her love for him would be nothing but a vague, perhaps unpleasant memory. Her heart would belong to another, and she'd have wee ankle-biters clutching to the cuffs of her trousers because, as she had mentioned, she did not wear skirts or dresses.

Her legs hung off the edge of the mattress, and he divested himself of his leather cloak and his hook, tossing it aside. He became situated between her thighs, and she stared at him, no objection on her swollen lips as he tugged and separated the strings of her vest. Soon he was able to bunch up the tunic under her chin and bent over to place his mouth over her naval, licking the crevice and then a long, wet strip to her ribs, to the plateau between her breasts where he dwelt for a few moments. He wanted to give Emma a chance to protest, but she remained silent with the exception of her maddening breathy whines.

He sampled her left breast first, and her soft moans turned into sharp, squealing gasps. He then paid equal amount of favor to her right breast while unlacing her trousers. Before removing them from her hips, he caught her gaze. She lowered her lashes, looking down and then nodded, swallowing. He stripped her trousers from her legs and then sunk to his knees and placed his mouth on her, humming and feasting on her sensitive flesh.

Emma bit her hand to keep from screaming. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? She thought he was going to touch her with his fingers, not…not…

Her hips arched and a strange, choking sound ripped from her throat.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

"Uh…" Something was about to break inside her. "I don't…I think…" And it did. Like a vase of flowers full of water making unforgiving contact with a slab of concrete on a hot, summer day. She pressed her palms into her flushed face and tried to remember how to breathe, and Hook rested his head on her stomach. Her fingers instinctively combed through his hair, the simple but intimate gesture calming her until the pleasure-filled fog lifted and she crashed into reality.

Why? Why did he have to go and do that?

It wasn't so much of Hook's pleasuring her that pissed her off. It was him pressuring her into saying she loved him. And for what? Why make her say it?

Something struck Emma, and her annoyance with him intensified. She squirmed beneath him, wordlessly telling him to get off her. He complied and slipped her trouser back in place. He went to do up the laces of her vest, but she shook her head and tied them herself, ignoring his stumped expression.

"You didn't like it," Hook said.

Her already reddened cheeks darkened. "No, I did. It's not that. I was just thinking about something."

"What's troubling you?" He massaged her cheek with his thumb and started planting gentle pecks on her nose and forehead but stopped when she grimaced and leaned away.

"You need to talk to Baelfire. It's about where we went yesterday before we found out you were in trouble. He…He wanted to wait and tell you, but you need to know." She stared at her lap and nodded. "I think you need to know now what he's been doing. It's not Tinker Bell, so I…I'm going to…" She pointed her thumb at the door and got up to leave.

Emma was about halfway when Hook mirthlessly laughed. "So that's it in then? You say you love me and now you have to go."

"You never said it back, and we both know it would be a lie if you did. Nothing has changed, and this won't happen again. I'll make that promise this time."

"Emma, please. It's not that I-"

"No, you please. Please talk to Baelfire. He has something to tell you."

She left for the kitchen for some tea and more bread. Guilt hammered at her. No, it wasn't a crime to love a person and like another, but letting both think they have a chance wasn't right which was why she made the initiative of telling Hook that Bae was hiding something. It would keep them both busy and away from her.

McCormack joined her in the kitchen close to noon and while he stirred the boiling stew, she read to him. It was something they started doing not long after her arrival on the ship. Being injured at the time and feeling useless, there wasn't much else to do, especially if Bae was doing his chores or skipping around the island. Plus, McCormack loved the company. Whether it be lunch or dinner or both, he would present her a book, and she would curl up on a rum barrel and read to him. Now that she'd been to the captain's cabin, she knew where he got the books.

Emma never called McCormack out on it, but she knew he couldn't read. He recognized the English language and, therefore, chose English books for her to read, but she assumed he was completely illiterate. He probably only knew how to spell his first name which was Sal.

Today, he brought her a brittle, old manuscript. The parchment was deeply yellowed, almost tan colored and the handwriting very old world, but she could read it, thank God. For how poor of condition the pages were, the ink was oddly clear.

Her fingertips smoothed over the title T _he Princess and the Pirate_ , and she quirked her lips. "In my world, we have a similar story. It's called The Princess Bride, and it was meant to poke fun of the concepts of royalty and true love. When it became a film, those specific parts didn't translate very well, but it was still a good watch."

"You speak of these films often, Miss Emma. You'll have to explain to me again what they are some time."

"Yeah." She chuckled and peeled back the first page and read aloud, _"The peasants of the quaint hamlet on the outskirts of Vessal sided with Pirate Kahn. The princess, indeed, deserved to die."_

Emma frowned and ask McCormack what the hell be brought her when Smee burst into the kitchen, red faced and wheezing.

"We're under attack! Miss Emma, go to the brigs! Run!"

"Uh…"

"Now, girl!"

"In the bloody middle of the day?!" McCormack took the stew off the fire and ran out of the kitchen, spoon in his fist.

"What's going on?!" she asked.

"To the brigs, Miss Emma! Captain's orders! You are to remain out of sight!" Smee's voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "The Lost Boys. Captain fears they're here for you."

"If they're here for me-"

Smee grabbed her, locking his fat arms around her middle, including her arms and dragged her out of the kitchen. She tried to kick him and dig her heels into the wood flooring, but he was stronger than he looked. One of the crew members, a large towering dark-skinned man, spotted them and Smee called out, "Kenny, take her to the brigs."

"No!" She tried to wiggle out of Smee's embrace before Kenny got to them. There would be no way she could get away from him, but Smee practically threw her at him, and Kenny picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

"I obey the captain only, Miss Emma," he told her calmly and grabbed one of the hallway lanterns and descended further and further into the belly of the ship until they came to the bottom level and opened a wide, heavy door. He entered the brigs and opened one of the cells lowering her to the straw covered floor. She attempted to slither around him and lock him in the cell, but he was faster than her. He locked her inside and placed the lantern on a table a few feet away from her.

"I can take care of myself, Kenny!" she shouted and kicked one of the bars of cell when he left. She heard the heavy door lock in place and she sunk to the floor. "Damn it!"

The manuscript was still in her hands, and she contemplated ripping it up in a fit of anger. This was her fight! She brought this on all of them. She killed those two boys. No one should fight her battles for her!

Emma banged her hand on the floor and growled. Stupid! All of it! Everyone!

She flinched when hearing a muffled but unmistakable sound of a bloody curdling scream above her and had no idea if it came from a man or a boy. The sound was then followed by a solid thump, and she covered her ears. For a half-hour, maybe, she stayed like that until the door of the brigs slowly opened, the hinges creaking noisily. The figure lowered his tattered hood and joined her in brigs.

"Hello, Emma."

"Hello, Felix."


	10. Chapter 10

_"Hello, Emma."_

_"Hello, Felix."_

Approaching the cell, the boy leered at her through the bars. "It's like the captain wrapped you up like a present for me."

"Your club won't break the locks," she told him.

"That won't be necessary." He uncurled his free hand and showed her a pair of bloody keys caked in tissue.

Emma resisted the urge to gag. Oh, God! Kenny. What did they do to him? _How_ could they do anything to him?

As smoothly as she could she said, "What are you waiting for? Don't tell me you're afraid to fight me."

"Fight you?" He bared his teeth. "Emma, I'm not here to kill you…unfortunately. I'm to deliver you. Pan has requested you join him in the captain's quarters."

Emma bristled at the implication and slowly stood as Felix unlocked the cell. She was careful to keep her front towards him until they left the brigs and then followed behind him, the ship eerily quiet and the main deck vacant of any life with exception of fresh blood stains on the steps leading up to the helm.

Emma entered Hook's cabin and gasped when seeing Baelfire bound and gagged to a chair a few feet from the door. He made muffled sounds at her and then glared at the two figures behind Hook's table, one of them being Hook and the other Pan. She was about to ask what the hell was going on when a wide arm encircled her rips and the tip of a dagger pressed into her pulse point. She felt a rounded belly against her back, the scent of rum and rat tickling her nostrils.

"Mr. Smee?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Emma," he said and she knew he meant it, but that didn't clue her in on what was going on. Why was Hook just standing there? Why wasn't he rushing to Bae's rescue or ordering Smee to unhand her?

Hook leaned against the table, eyebrow arched in amusement. "Careful, Swan. We mustn't make any sudden movements."

Emma tried to catch Bae's gaze again, but his attention was on Hook, and she just saw the man die ten thousand ways in her friend's eyes.

"I don't understand," she said and stared at Pan. "I killed Tomas and Benjamin. Let Baelfire go, and you can take me back to the island. I'll go willingly."

Pan circled the table, hands clasped behind his back. "You can return to the boat, Felix," he said and the other boy nodded and left the cabin, but not without bidding Emma a chilling glare.

"Now, Emma," Pan started. "You seem to be a tad behind on the latest news. You see…how do I put this? You've-"

"Allow me. Your flowery words will keep us here all night," Hook interrupted and rubbed the curve of his metal appendage. "Since the moment I fished Baelfire out of the water, I've lost eight men and two more when you arrived. Their blood soaks both your hands, and I refuse to shelter such thoughtless sycophants any longer. Emma, you persuaded Starkey against me. My most loyal." He stalked around the table and pressed the tip of his hook into her cheek. "I should've left you at the north spring to die like I should've handed Bae over the moment he came aboard. You pathetic, lost children have been plagues on my life. Pan offered me a deal, and I'm taking it, sweetheart. I hand you both over, and I get to leave Neverland. For good."

"You're lying!" she yelled. "Pan. He's making you say this. He's threatening you. You don't mean this."

"Oh, but I do, love." He smirked coldly at her. "Pan's interest and mine are one and the same. I want you and the Dark One's son off my ship, and Pan wants you back on the island where all the lost ones belong." His hook skimmed her jaw and nestled at the spot beneath her ear where he nipped and suckled earlier. His tongue swiped at his bottom lips. "Although, if you beg real prettily, I'll be merciful and end your existence now. It'll be quick. A fate the Lost Boys won't bestow when they catch up to you. Let us not forget what they did to that boy you came with. What was his name? _Ian_."

Emma had never told Hook about Ian. It was too painful and sickening, and she prayed for just a night she wouldn't dream of her foster brother's death. Of how he took his last, pained breath while his tiny convulsing body slackening in her arms. She couldn't even stop and weep over the loss. Three of Pan's were tailing her. She had managed to lose them when she, by accident, stumbled upon Marooner's Rock. There, she had wrapped Ian in her jacket and sobbed, screaming at no one and nothing, asking the universe what she was supposed to do with him. She had been too frightened to go back into the forest and dig a grave, and the beach would be too exposed. She didn't want the Lost Boys to make a mockery of his grave.

Emma had met Ariel not too long after that. The mermaid had surfaced, nearly scaring Emma to death. Once things calmed down some, Ariel listened to Emma's tale and with a tender expression, the mermaid gently patted her chest and offered her arms, silently telling Emma to give Ian to her. Emma had been reluctant, but something inside her told her she could trust her. There was nothing malicious or wooly about Ariel, so Emma handed over Ian and wept as the mermaid cradled the boy and disappeared beneath the ocean's surface.

Pan must've told Hook everything, and Emma stupidly thought if the man did ever find out about Ian, he would sympathize. Baelfire told her he lost a brother a long, long time ago because of Neverland. Shame on her for foolishly believing Hook would care. He was a pirate and had been for too long. It was expected he'd forgotten what it was like to be a decent human being.

Emma felt dirty, used, and disgusted with him but most of all, herself. She had killed for him and given him something she hadn't given anyone before. She glanced quickly at the bed where she had allowed him to please her. Never had she let a boy do that. He had been her first in that aspect, and she was so glad it hadn't gone beyond that. What if the pheromones hadn't lifted, and she insisted he take all of her? Emma knew many girls who never said stop because everything felt perfect and good and sexy.

In her time in Neverland, she discovered herself a prude in comparison to the pirates and to other girls with similar upbringings. In no way, though, was she one of those promise ring kind of girls. Emma did have plans to hand over her v-card someday to someone who probably wouldn't be her husband, but she wasn't going to throw it at just _anyone_ at _any time_. She was still trying to persuade herself that a guy's dick wasn't gross-looking.

Hook, despite how she wanted to dump gasoline on him and light a match, thankfully kept that part to himself in her moment of weakness.

Emma lifted her chin and willed the unshed tears away. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, of seeing her heart break. "I would gladly act as a pin cushion for every Lost Boys' arrow and spear than give you the satisfaction of doing me a favor. When I die on the island, at least it will be at the hands of those on my level and not below it."

Her words were harsher than a slap to the face, and a thrill shot through her when he flinched. She almost smiled, but there were more pressing matters than her small moment of satisfaction. She needed to get her satchel in Smee's cabin. Bae's Shadow Trap should still be in it because, oh, she'd _swim_ to the island and French kiss every Lost Boy if it meant getting away from Hook fast enough, but she wasn't going to stay there. She _would_ get back to Boston if it was the last thing she did. Baelfire would go with her, and if his plan was to get to London, she would go with him. She would go with him anywhere because he had to be _so over_ people claiming to love him and then abandon him. They could be fed up together.

Emma bravely placed a hand on Hook's forearm and pulled his weapon of choice away from her neck, coolly staring him in the face. "Bae and I will leave, and you'll never have to see us again. Let us just get our things, and we'll be off your ship before either of us can say fuck you."

* * *

When Mr. Smee untied Baelfire, Emma had to rush and grab ahold of the boy and yank him towards the door to keep him from attacking Hook.

"He's not even worth it," she told him.

"He betrayed us, Emma! After everything-"

"I know, but he's not worth dying over. It's us against his crew and Pan."

"And we both know, Emma, you can't kill me," Pan reminded. "Be a smart lass and put a leash on your pup. You've two minutes to get to my boat. Felix will be waiting to take you to the island."

Baelfire took nothing, not even his cutlass. She only grabbed her satchel from Smee's cabin and shared a knowing look with Bae when they lowered themselves down to Pan's rowboat. Felix shoved a paddle into her hands, and they rowed to the island. When they made shore, she slid off her satchel and offered it to Bae. He hesitantly took it, frowning, and then got out of the boat, and all three of them maneuvered the small vessel into the trees.

"Follow me," Felix said and put his back to them. Emma flew into action and hit him on the back of the head with the paddle, and he fell to the sand unconscious.

"We need to get to Marooner's Rock as fast as we can," she told Bae and broke out into a run.

"Emma," he called out, sprinting after her.

"Sh!" She chanced the route through the forest, never resting to stop, even when her lungs burned and her mouth yearned for water.

An hour later, they came to their destination, both bending over and resting their hands on their knees. Through gasps and heaves, Emma finally spoke, "It's safe here. They won't bother us, and we can stay here until night. And then…" She stood tall and sighed. "And then we go to Dark Hallow. After tonight, we're not spending another day in Neverland."

* * *

Long after the sun set over the horizon, Emma and Bae circled the island, only pausing to stare at Skull Rock one last time and to bid farewell to the tribe at the reservation. They had taken the long way, but it was away from the lost boys' hunting grounds. When they finally reached Tinker Bell's treehouse, Emma guessed they had two hours before dawn.

"We'll need to hurry," she said, throwing a rock at the treehouse's siding. Tinker Bell came to the window, and Emma whispered, "Come with us. It's time."

The former pixie shook her head. "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Just go without me. Before it's too late."

"Please, we need you. In my realm. Bae and I, we'll get separated."

"What?" hissed the boy, gripped her elbow.

She shirked his hold. "I'm sorry. I should've told you on the way here, but you're already so upset. I've told you what an orphan's life is like where I'm from. There is no way we can stay together with the exception of an impossible chance you get put into the same home as me or even the same city. They could send you across the country for all I know."

"Emma, no."

"This was not the plan, and I'm sorry about that. _Hook_ was supposed to be your safety net." Emma swallowed thickly and looked up at Tinker Bell pleadingly. "But if you come with and claim us, we can stay together. We can start over, but we need an adult to do that."

Tinker Bell shook her head. "You're almost there, Emma, and you'll both be fine. You're better off without me."

"Tink, please!" Bae begged and Emma laced her fingers through his.

"Leave her, Bae. We have to go."

He stumbled behind her, reluctance in each step. "I don't want to be away from you."

Emma stopped and cupped his face, kissing him gently and then hugged him. "There will be ways to stay in contact and when it's time, we can be together. I have one more year of school and the foster system. When I'm done, I'll find you and I'll be close. Maybe one day we can even go to London but right now we need to leave."

He kissed her this time, holding her to her words, and then they both darted towards Dark Hallow. Inside the thicket of gnarled trees, they moved almost blindly until they came to a clearing.

Bae fished out the star projection from the satchel, and Emma started on a fire. When she smelled the smoke coming from her two sticks, she sped up her rubbing and sighed in relief when seeing a small yellow flicker. She hurriedly ignited the wick inside the coconut, and Bae covered it. Flecks of light hit the leaves and branches of the trees surrounding them, and no more than a minute past before Shadow came to investigate the new light. Emma watched in nervous excitement as Shadow gravitated towards the coconut in Bae's hands. He clamped the cover on it, holding it securely to his stomach. "I got it!"

* * *

The rum finally dulled his conscious state, and Hook found his chin tipping towards his chest. He then jerked awake when sensing a presence and narrowed his gaze on Pan's darkened figure. He stood on the other side of the table, his back facing the door to the captain's cabin.

"Bloody hell, you're still here," Hook muttered and stood up from his chair, kicking it before finding his bottle on the sheets of his bed. When he grabbed it, his fingers skimmed the material and swore he caught Emma's scent on them. He stared at them shortly before slashing a hole through them.

"They're gone, Jones," Pan quipped. "Thought I would inform you, is all, and also congratulate you on your brilliant performance earlier. Emma's reaction was priceless, and Bae's? Well, I'm sure his would've been cute, too."

"Get off my ship."

"Ah. Don't be that way. It had to be like this or else they would've been too hesitant in leaving their precious captain behind."

Hook whirled around faced the demon, fury boiling his veins. "What exactly is your angle, Pan? Why not just kill me?"

Amused, Pan replied lightly, "Because you and I have a common cause. The Dark One. You remember him, right? The man that killed the woman you loved. Or did our lovely, _young_ Emma blot out her existence? Face it, Jones. I did you a favor by making you lie to her and Baelfire. Perhaps one day you could've loved her, but in the end, she's a child and you're a pirate. What could you have offered each other here in Neverland?" Pan casually walked around the table, sticking his nose up in the air and inhaling. "The lovemaking would've lost its appeal after a while. Despite your rotten heart, captain, your good form shows its head at the most inconvenient times. There would've come a point where you couldn't stand to touch her any longer, and she'd grow frustrated, knowing she'd never be woman enough to satisfy you. As for Baelfire, you would've lost him anyway. The lad's been besotted by Emma since the moment he saw her. You'd feel his wrath and then absence when he'd discover you stole another woman he loved. Now…back to the Dark One. I want him dead, Killian. He's a threat to you and most importantly to me and my future plans."

Shaking with anger, Hook popped the cap of his rum bottle and downed a good amount. "I've sworn vengeance upon that beast, but if you can't kill him yourself, then I see very little hope for my cause, Pan."

The boy winced and bobbed his head from side to side. "It's complicated. Let's just say I really _can't_ , but you can with that hatred and anger burning in your belly. You'll find a way. You're rather resourceful in a pinch, and you've been stewing on this for over two centuries. I doubt you'll disappoint, but I should warn you about something before I give you _this_." He extended a fist and opened it, revealing a magic bean. Hook went to grab it, but Pan recoiled and shot the man a hostile glare. "Your impatience just cost you dearly, captain. I suppose my caveat will go to waste."

"Give me the bean, Pan. We had a deal. You go back on it, I'll gladly postpone the Dark One for another two hundred years and stay here, spending every waking moment making your existence unbearable, starting with cleansing the island of every child you've corrupted and every new one you bring." Hook cleared his throat and tossed Pan his own malicious grin. "I'd love to give you a private showing of how resourceful I can be."

Pan's mouth twisted into a smirk and offered the magic bean again. "As I said, your impatience cost you. Maybe you'll find some again in the Enchanted Forest."

Hook took the bean, and Pan left the ship. When Hook surfaced from below deck, he found his crew gathered in a clump muttering about themselves.

"The sun."

"It's gone."

"Should've been up an hour ago."

Hook stared at the night sky and full moon. Indeed, dawn had yet to grace Neverland.

"Neverland is cursed!" shouted McCormack and pointed a thick finger at his captain. "And it's your fault! You sold out Emma, and Pan killed her! Her spirit has forbidden the sun to rise!" He withdrew his sword, rage reddening his round face. "The captain must pay for his misdeed!"

The rest of the crew unsheathed their weapons and started towards Hook. The man calmly lifted his palms. "Easy, mates. Miss Emma lives as does Baelfire." Hook explained the deal with Pan and that Emma and Bae were no longer in Neverland. His crew listened intently before sheathing and stowing away their weapons.

McCormack stepped forward and bowed his head. "It has been an honor sailing the realms and seas with you, Captain Jones, yet on our return to Misthaven, I ask to retire from the _Roger_."

"As do I," said Davis.

"And I," said Luther.

With the exception of Mr. Smee, Hook was without a crew when he tossed the bean into the sea of Neverland. At the helm, he sailed the ship through the churning portal, keeping his mind focused on their destination, not chancing even a fleeting image of Bae or Emma. It wasn't time to find them as of yet, but one day he would. They could very well still hate him for his betrayal, and he would explain the circumstances. Perhaps they could find it in their hearts to forgive him. The chances would be slim, especially concerning Baelfire. Hook had every intention to follow through on his vengeance against Rumpelstiltskin.

Hook saw a sunny sky at the opening of the portal's end and he shouted in anticipation, "We're almost there, mates! We're almost there!"

* * *

**Storybrooke 2001**

Regina Mills purposefully stalked into Mr. Gold's pawnshop, not stopping until she was right in front of him. His fingers tapped on a thin stack of forms, his eyes fixated on the mayor as if he already knew she was coming.

"I want a child," she said, flicking a piece of hair out of her face.

He smiled quizzically with a hint of distain. "Well, I'm flattered but uninterested."

Annoyed, she snapped, "Not like _that_. I spent all morning talking to adoption agencies. The wait lists are over two years long. But you, Gold, you know how to cut through red tape. And if anyone can work the system and find me a baby, it's you."

"You wish to adopt?"

"Well, don't look so surprised."

Gold appeared amused. "Oh, I'm not. I'm sure you'll make…well, a mother of sort."

"Can you help me?"

" _Don't_ get your hopes up, dearie. These things can take time. Until then, I suggest you put your name on some of those waiting lists."

"I don't want to wait! I want a child _now_ , Gold!"

He chuckled. "Well, I can place a few calls and see where it gets us, Madam Mayor, but I wouldn't decorate the nursery as of yet. Adoptions are delicate matters to behold, I hear."

"Get. Me. A baby."

"Do yourself a favor and help yourself before you ask me for some. I'll stand by what I said, however. I'll make some calls. Someday, perhaps when the time is right, you'll find yourself in care of a child. Until then, wait your turn and take this time to ask yourself if this is something your ready for."

"It's something I need."

"Well, that may not be the same thing. When you become a parent, you must put your child first." He paused and then finished, "No matter what."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hampton, Virginia**

**June 2004**

The rough sketch Emma drew up, concerning her future with Baelfire, minutes before leaving Neverland might as well have been scribbles on a shoreline. Not only were her plans unintelligible, they were written in a place where the course of life easily erased such notions. When she had willingly returned to the system, Bae by her side, and watched social services cart him away to give his entire record-less life the once over, she had naively believed he would be "okay." Not awesome and definitely not happy but _fine_. In all the homes and orphanages Emma resided in, she had always been the rough definition of _fine._ The system sucked, yes, and the foster homes were awful to the point of running away, but she, herself, had always been fine. Miserable, angry, frightened, and sad but alive and functioning. Emma assumed he'd learn to adjust. He survived Neverland. He sure as hell could survive something a little less wild.

Social services had to give him the works, meaning stacks and stacks of paperwork. He had no identification and no proof of existing, but he _sounded_ American and had a belly button. During this time, Emma had been sent to Virginia to another foster home. She kept her head down, didn't run away when it was only too easy, and went to school.

Once Baelfire became Neal Cassidy, which was close to the end of Emma's junior year of high school, he was sent to Minnesota. In response to his letter explaining where the system was taking him, Emma wrote that Minnesota was cold and to look out for crazy blonde ladies. The place the system sent him was a boys' orphanage, and he lasted six weeks before running away with three other miscreants. He and the boys made it to Arizona before Bae called her by payphone and confessed what he'd done and maybe this hadn't been such a bright idea.

Emma had _wanted_ to be angry, but she didn't really blame him and was able to persuade him to contact his social worker before he found himself in too much trouble. Later, he told her that he was already in trouble when he called but was too much of a coward to tell her the extent of it. Apparently, Neal and his abandonment issues had started to express themselves and to cope with all that, he started stealing.

Like, a lot.

Emma was no stranger to the five-finger discount, but it wasn't her crutch. Stacking up on the bitter seemed to always work better for her. Though it left her pretty much friendless and unlikeable by everyone, being a bitch wasn't illegal.

Neal returned to Minnesota and stayed there until the end of the year until he was transferred to a foster home in Portland, Maine. Surprisingly, he stayed with the Bradfords until he graduated. They liked him a whole lot more than he liked them, according to Neal's emails and phone calls.

In other words, they didn't put up with his shit and made him go to school and church, at the same time letting him have second helpings at dinner time and as much ice cream as he wanted.

Those people were actually trying to be _parents,_ and Emma hadn't known whether to feel sorry for him or be jealous. Considering that she had just attended his high school graduation that morning and was forced to take a whole bunch of pictures of him and said foster parents, it was probably the latter.

Resisting to give him the stink eye and stick her tongue out at him for being so damned likeable despite him being as pleasant as she was, Emma picked up a piping hot slice of delicious sausage, olive pizza and brought the cheesy, gooey tip to her mouth. Right when she took a bite, Neal put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. He kissed her on the cheek and said, "You know, I kind of like them."

Mouth full, she frowned and said, "Fourteen hours later after you see them." She swallowed and sipped at her Coke before adding, "My contacts are in the mail. Don't worry about it."

Neal scoffed and raised a hand. "Emma, I like your glasses."

"No, you don't."

"I do."

"You're lying."

"You know I'm not."

Emma made a face. "Eat your damn fries."

"They make you look like a hot history tutor."

Emma's frown deepened, and she set down her slice of pizza on her little pan and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Is that something you're familiar with?"

"Probably as familiar as you are with math tutors."

Oh, no he didn't! "Really? You're going to bring that up _now!_ "

"How is Andrew Asswipe or whatever his name is?"

"Seriously, we're having dinner. Together. At the same time. In the same place."

"At the same table," Neal added dramatically, rolling his eyes and then kissing her forehead. "I know. It's rare."

Heart fluttering at the sweet gesture of affection, Emma relaxed into his side again. "It's _new_. Let's just enjoy what's left of our Friday night. This is supposed to be a happy, joyous occasion. I did not ride on a Greyhound all last night to Portland, sit on a rock-hard, metal chair for three hours, and ride the bus back for you to act like a total butt face."

"Yeah, you smell like a bus." Emma punched him in the thigh and then in the side, and he laughed, gathering her into an embrace and kissing the side of her face. "I like your glasses," he mumbled into her skin.

"And I like your…" She shifted her gaze down to his attire. "Why did you have to wear khakis and a tie again?"

"Janice made me. I didn't even want to go. Like you said, three hours, but her and Richard felt obligated or something."

"Well, at least they try," Emma said and finished the rest of her pizza and put a slice on his small plate. "Eat your food and put to good use that new fake ID _Dillan_ got you."

"You sound like a hypocrite."

"I just don't care for the people you choose to call friends. They're a bad influence on you."

"Dillan isn't a friend. More like someone who has connections. And you're not one to judge. Your _roommates_."

Ah. He was referring to the weed underneath Elena's bed, and the booze fest in the apartment refrigerator when she and none of her five roommates were twenty-one yet. "I can't choose them, and I wouldn't call them friends. They eat my ice cream and steal my Midol. Friends don't do that."

"Moving on to another subject, please." Neal dunked a fry into a large pile of ketchup and said, "So…is Elena going to be in tonight?"

He tried to sound casual, but the implication was there. It had been there during his spring break when he came down from Maine to visit her for a few days. Before then, even, during his winter break, and she went up for Christmas. The mood had been broken, unfortunately, by his foster parents. When Neal had told them his girlfriend wanted to visit him, they had been hesitant but complied and planned a pleasant Christmas Eve brunch, expecting a junior or senior in high school to show up on their welcome mat. Instead, they met her in all of her twenty year old, nanny-working glory. Despite her sufficient salary and plans to enroll in Hampton University that following fall semester, Mr. and Mrs. Bradford thought she was a harlot, driven to corrupt their foster son with her cutesy, blonde nanny visage or something.

Actually, they probably invaded Neal's privacy and hacked into his email account and found _those_ emails. Not the vanilla "how's the weather in Maine" ones, but the "other" ones.

The naughty ones.

After the meal, in not so many words, they instructed her not to darken their front door again, and Emma hadn't. Her relationship with Neal was still solid, but she didn't want to cause a rift when he was so close to graduating. She kept her distance which wasn't exactly hard being nearly twelve hours away.

The reason why nothing happened during Neal's spring break was because of _Andrew,_ a math tutor. She was paying him in preparation of her placement test in late May. After a few meetings, Andrew made it pretty obvious he'd do just about anything to get her to cash in her v-card at his bank. Neal had met him when the guy insisted on walking her back to her apartment after a session at the Hampton U library, and Neal got all jealous because Andrew was 6'2, a Marine, a med student, and built like a god.

Emma wasn't blind. Andrew had _the_ package, and she was flattered by his attention, but he didn't do it for her. He reminded her too much of someone she wanted to forget.

"I don't know," Emma said. "Maybe I _could_ ask her to stay somewhere else tonight or sleep on the couch."

Following dinner, they walked the mile to her apartment, and Emma was relieved to find all her roommates gone for the evening. No one but she and Neal were there which meant that something definitely was going to happen. They had danced around the subject since he turned eighteen in early December. She supposed even before then, but she refused to consider going all the way with him until he was the big one eight.

For reasons of her own.

They went to her room, and she told him she needed to use the bathroom and scampered across the hall to wash her face, brush her teeth, comb her hair, steal a spritz of Elena's perfume, and checked her most girly part to make sure her home-done wax job the morning before hadn't somehow caused any problems or failed to remove the main ones.

Emma washed her face again. This time with cold water and patted dry her flushed cheeks, sticking out her tongue at her reflection when seeing how uber freckly her freckles were at that moment.

"Go away," she growled and chucked her cloth at the mirror before stomping back to her room before she lost her nerve. Neal was sitting on her bed reading one of Elena's _Cosmopolitan_ magazines. He blushed and pointed to something on a page. "Am I supposed to do this to you?"

Emma took the rag from him, closing and tossing it towards Elena's side of the room. "Only if you want to get slapped," she said lightly and placed her hands on his shoulders, using her grip as leverage to straddle him. This was a familiar place for them. They could start here and make gradual adjustments on the way. Regardless of all the colorful things she wrote in her emails to him over the past year, she wanted to keep their first time simple. There wasn't need to try anything risqué, so when their clothes were gone and Neal's lip started drifting lower than her chest, lower than her stomach, she yanked his hair and shook her head no.

"Not yet," she told him. "I'm not ready for you to do that."

* * *

The next morning Emma woke to Elena stomping into the room. Her roommate lifted an eyebrow at the scene. Yawning, Emma brought a finger to her open mouth and shook her head, silently telling Elena to shut up and go away.

"Fine, but you owe me details." The girl grabbed some fresh clothes and left the room, and Emma slept for another hour until Neal woke her by accidently rolling off the twin bed. They tiptoed awkwardly around each other for all of three minutes before Emma huffed and said they were both acting stupid and dragged him to the bathroom, quickly finding out that shower sex was either not all that cracked up to be or they needed to work on a few things.

After they dressed, Emma dragged him out he door as fast as she could before her roommates in the kitchen could get a word in.

"We are going to be late for our appointment," she reminded Neal. They had a meeting with a landlord about an apartment closer to Hampton University. Twenty minutes later, they stood in a tiny, hideous one bedroom flat a block away from campus while the landlord droned on about fees, fine print, and damages. The landlord was in the middle of deposit negotiations when Neal's phone rang. Emma scowled at him, and he excused himself into the hallway, leaving her to read over the contract. When he came back, he was clearly upset about something.

"Sorry," he said to the landlord and took the contract from Emma. "We're going to have to pass on this."

"Neal?" she said.

"I need to talk to you." He grabbed her hand and led her outside near a bike rack.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. Stupid question. Obviously not judging from his behavior.

"No…uh…" He scratched the back of his neck and said, "That was Mitch."

Emma frowned at that bit of information. Mitch was one of the boys from the home in Minnesota Neal took off with to Arizona. "I wasn't aware you two kept in contact."

"We have an understanding, all right? Anyway, he was going through Tucson, and he spotted a wanted sign."

"And you were on it." she finished, sighing and rubbing her forehead. "For the watches."

"We both were. It's a grainy image. Taken from the security cameras, but it's enough. I lied. I told him the watches were long gone. He's running to Canada anyway. Emma, it's only a matter of time before it makes it back to Janice and Richard, and they tell the police I'm here. I have to go."

"There's got to be another way. Where'd you stash them? You need to tell me this time, Neal."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and scuffed the toe of his sneaker. "Back in Portland in a locker at the train station. I dumped them there before my social worker met me."

"Shit."

Neal chuckled bitterly and got out of bed, pulling on his pants. "Yeah."

"No," she groaned and kicked a metal bar of the bike rack. "You can't go to Canada. What about me? What about us? We can finally _be_ together, Neal. You were…" She huffed and lightly shoved him in the chest. "We are apartment shopping. We have been planning this since September. Arizona wasn't supposed to follow you.

Fear invaded every inch of her. She couldn't lose him. Not now. Not after everything. Their future was a couple of floors up and waiting for them to sign the dotted line. It wasn't London yet, but one day they would have it. One day they would go, and it would be their home.

A year ago, when he finally told her about all the shit he did in Arizona, she told him to find a large body of water and dump the watches, and he told her he would.

A blatant lie, but she didn't call him out on it.

Neal didn't lie to her all the time. No more than any other boyfriend that lies to their girlfriend, and no more than she did to him.

Emma disliked his habit, but she wasn't a saint, either. She had stolen things before, but thievery wasn't hounding her ass like a drug.

She was quiet for a moment and folded her arms, glaring at the sidewalk beneath her. A moment later, she said, "You're not leaving. Not without me. We'll fence the watches, change our names, and go to London with the money."

His laugh was sharp and incredulous. "You just got accepted to college. You're not backing out. Not for me. Not for this. I did this."

Emma cupped his face. "I love you. We can start over. A brand new start. A better one than last. We'll be together this time."

"You're going to stay here and go to school. When you're done, we'll find each other, okay?"

"In four years? No. I'm going with you." She swallowed and timidly added, "We can get married. Let's get married. There's no one else. We're _it_ for each other. You know that, right? There's no one who will understand, Neal." She paused and dropped her voice to a faint whisper. "Baelfire. We're going to London. We're going _home_."

* * *

**Misthaven**

Hook stared at the freshly dead body decorating the main deck. He lowered his sword and pressed the tip of the crimson-spattered blade into the wood beneath his feet, putting his weight on the weapon as he came to terms of what he'd just done.

Who he just eliminated rather messily.

"Ah, Edward," Hook said to the body ruefully and sat down on the nearest crate. "Did you really think you could kill me?"

The late Black Beard failed to respond.

"Yes, I suppose you did." Hook uncapped his bottle of rum. After satiating his thirst, he pocketed the brew and called out, "I know you're there, darling. Why don't you reveal yourself, and we can make way towards a proper introduction."

A billowing cloud of purple swirled a few feet away from him, and Hook arched a brow at the garish theatrics. Its twin joined when the cloud revealed an attractive woman, at least twenty or so years his senior and dressed in fine, extravagant threads. Such unusual garments to these cursed times of the Enchanted Forest.

Lovely. A bloody witch.

"Milady. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"You're Captain Jones," she said, unimpressed.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Call me Cora."

He forced a smirk and stood, bowing. "Lady Cora, may I ask why you trespassed on my ship?"

"You killed Black Beard. He was in my employment."

"So it was you who sent him to kill me. And here I thought it was because there was bad blood between the bloke and me."

"Dear Edward came all on his own and against my advice. Be that as it may, I'm in need of a replacement."

"I doubt there's anything you can offer me, love. Riches here aren't worth much and unless you can conjure up a magic bean, I'll bid you thanks and farewell."

"You wish to leave this realm?"

Hook swept his arm at the abandoned port and coastline village. "Do you blame me?"

The woman Cora seemed particularly pleased and clasped her gloved hands together. "Then you and I may have something in common. You see…I wish to travel to the Land Without Magic. My daughter is there. She is the one who cursed this land."

He sniffed out trouble immediately. For three years, he'd been in this rotted place. So much like Neverland, it was. Every now and then, he spoke to those passing through the hamlet. That was how he acquired the tale of a vengeful queen cursing Misthaven. Within minutes, the majority of the lands laid vacant and desolate with the exception of the inhabitants of a nearby island Hook avoided until he was in dire need of a woman's touch. Much of the kingdoms were entirely inaccessible for some odd reason. "The Evil Queen?"

" _Regina._ She has a name, and she is not _my_ queen. Yes, what you may have heard is true, but the curse did not vanquish the people. It took them all to another realm."

Hook stepped towards her, anxious and very much livid. "The Dark One lives?"

"The Dark One?" Cora's smile widened. "I think our inevitable partnership will benefit us greatly. I take it that you don't mind in the least to travel to a realm without magic as long we happen across Rumpelstiltskin."

He sheathed his sword and asked, "When do we leave?"

"Patience, captain. We cannot leave until the curse is broken, and there is still another seven years until that happens."

"Patience," Hook repeated. It had become his least favorite word in the past few years. When he had arrived from Neverland miles and miles away from the nearest part of the Enchanted Forest, he made port and scoured the sparse lands in search of the Dark One. He found his castle, but the Crocodile was nowhere to be seen. However, he did make enemies with a bloke named Robin and his merry band of wankers. There had been a standoff, his hook at Robin's throat while the men aimed their arrows at Hook's head. The event was postponed when a small boy toddled into the room demanding some milk and berries. The wee lad's mop of curls struck Hook in the chest, for they reminded him of Bae's.

Gods, he was a sentimental fool.

In the end, Hook had rolled his eyes and begrudgingly let go of Robin, telling him and his men their next meeting would end differently if they ever crossed paths again.

"And how exactly is this curse supposed to lift? I may be a simple pirate, but I know curses aren't easy to break. Forgive my lack of faith. I'm wary, is all."

Cora started to pace. "It was prophesied that twenty-eight years after the casting of the curse, a savior would break it. The walls between most of the realms are impossible to breach until then, which is why when you returned to this one, you missed the mark. I've been keeping an eye on you for a while, Hook. Your arrival wasn't that subtle. Being the only ship to make port in the last seventeen years and with your crew running away from the ship like a plague, you weren't hard to miss."

Hook fished out his rum once more and had a drink before offering the bottle to Cora. "A drink to our new partnership, milady?"

"What a gentleman." Her painted lips curled in mild disgust, but she took the bottle and complied with his request.


	12. Chapter 12

**Portland, Maine**

**June 2004**

Emma tilted her chin back and stared up at the tree above her, or more specifically, the small pigeon pecking at the wood of the branch it was perched on. Puckering her lips and letting out a purring hoot, the bird stopped pecking and cocked its head at her. Emma repeated the noise, and it glided down and landed on the back of her bench. The tiny bird purred at her, and Emma sighed in disappointment. She shouldn't have been surprised for not understanding the creature. Since she returned to the real world from Neverland, she hadn't been able to communicate with birds. They seemed to understand her which was all right, but she wanted to know what they saw and what they were thinking.

Especially since someone was watching her.

She couldn't see the person, and the park wasn't necessarily vacant, but the hairs on the back of her neck kept her on high alert.

Neal finally came out of the convenient store across the street with that look on his face. When he sat down beside her, she cocked a brow and sighed. "What'd you take?" she asked.

He lifted up the plastic grocery bag and pulled out the receipt. "Nothing."

She rolled her eyes, snapped her fingers, and opened her palm. She cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look. He grumbled something about 'how do you do that?' and pulled something cheap and metallic out of his pocket and slapped it on her hand. Using her thumb, she spread out the chain and smiled, something girly and in the shade of fuchsia blossoming inside of her.

A swan keychain.

"You don't look mad anymore," he said.

"I wasn't mad," she said. "It's just…I don't know. I don't want you to steal anymore when we get to London."

"We'll have money from the watches. I won't need to."

"Even after the new IDs, passports, a place to live when we get there? Plus, getting married and being a family. Neal, we're going to have to be smart…smarter if we do this. Actually do this."

"We'll be fine and if you're not sure, we can back out. You can go back to Virginia."

Emma shook her head. "No. We're not separating again. Whatever comes next, we're not going at it alone. You want to dump the watches and go to Canada, I'll be there with you."

Neal exhaled and put an arm around her. "I love you, Emma."

She kissed him on the cheek and hopped off the park bench. "You're such a sap. Come on."

They walked to a crappy motel, and Emma was about to get out her wallet when Neal elbowed her and pointed to a family leaving a room. Following his train of thought, Emma scoffed. "It's, like, twenty bucks a room."

"Why do it when you don't have to?" He laughed and hightailed it to the recently vacated room, and she begrudgingly followed.

"You know, your pirate shows at the most absurd times."

Sometimes Neal's inner pirate was endearing, but other times it was stressful and unnecessary. She could hardly fault him, though. He spent many, many years with morally ambiguous men in Neverland, and he wasn't from this world. It was expected he didn't feel its laws applied to him. Hell, she was from this world, and there had been a time she felt that way, too.

Emma closed and locked the door behind her and began stripping off her clothes. "We should hurry before maid service comes. If you'd let me pay, we wouldn't have to rush."

"You can have the first shower."

She almost smiled but was too annoyed. "Such a gentleman," she said and noticed something on the dresser and went over to pick it up. "A Native American dream catcher. You must've saw a ton of these in Arizona."

Neal frowned and shook his head. "Didn't really take the time to smell the roses."

"It's supposed to keep all the nightmares out, and only let the good dreams in to protect your home."

"It's a flypaper for nightmares?"

Their eyes met, and Emma wanted to tell him that she still dreamed of Neverland. Often, the nightmares were so vivid, she could feel the sharp earthy bits beneath her bare feet while running through a jungle-like abyss, running towards something...or someone. She'd wake up, sweating and heart pounding like she had been running for hours. Her feet even ached sometimes.

Even more so, she'd dream of him...of Hook. The dreams would start off different and not always in Neverland, but would end the same. Each one ended with him handing her over to Pan, betraying her.

She wondered what Neal dreamed.

Diamond-encrusted unicorns and crunchy muffin tops, no doubt.

Emma swallowed and let out a harsh chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

"I'm guessing it doesn't work."

Emma shook her head. "Doesn't mean we can't keep it for ourselves. We can put in our flat in London."

He chuckled softly and took the dream catcher from her. "All right. Go on and shower. You smell like bus again."

"You think it's hot." 

* * *

When Emma got out of the shower and while Neal took his, she checked her phone and knew she was probably going to have to trash it. Several voicemails from her roommates back in Virginia filled up the small screen. They weren't her friends, but they did worry which was kind of nice of them, and she had literally pulled the whole 'drop everything and run' act two days ago. Emma had left most of her possession, not that she had many, at the apartment. She had only taken a few changes of clothes, underwear, and toiletries, and gave her employer some lame excuse for quitting on such short notice.

Ten minutes later, they left the room and strolled over to the train station. Neal gave Emma the key, and she went inside. She had opted to fetching the watches just in case someone knew something about all this and told the police. They wouldn't be expecting a blonde girl from Virginia. Her heart did leap into her throat when she saw a few police officers in the building, but none of them appeared to be on the lookout for anyone. Without trouble, she was able to find the locker and pull out the duffle bag and leave the station. She jogged back to the alleyway she left him, and they huddled together while he unzipped the bag.

She made a face and said, "That's not as many as I thought."

"Yeah, but they're super pricey. This is over twenty thousand dollars, easy."

"Twenty thousand?! Okay." She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She never had that kind of money before or even lived with people with that kind of money. It was so surreal, Emma knew she should be freaking out more but staying calm and level-headed was key if she didn't want this operation to go south. "Okay, okay, okay. That's good. That's good. London."

The hairs on the back of her neck sprang to life again, and Emma whipped her head around.

"Something wrong?" Neal asked.

Biting her lip, Emma said, "No. I, um…It's nothing. Just be careful with the fence."

"You don't have anything to worry about." As if to assure her, he fished out one of the watches and buckled it around her wrist.

"I guess we're keeping this one," she said, half-amused, but a part of her was worried. Someone was watching them. It wasn't the cops, she was sure. They would've busted them already.

"How can we not? Look how good it looks on you." He leaned over kissed her. "Remember. Nine o' clock sharp."

"Yes, because I naturally forgot," Emma sassed and then fished out the swan keychain from her pocket. "Before you go, take this for good luck. When we get the money and go to London, we can put a key to our home on it."

Neal took the keychain and kissed her again before taking off in a jog. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she called after him and waved. 

* * *

Emma looked at her watch and pulled out her cellphone, dialing Neal's number and began to pace the parking lot.

"The number you are trying to reach is out of service. If you think that this message is an error-"

She cut the connection and glared at the device. "Damn right, it's an error."

"Unless he set you up," a man said from behind her, and she heard the distinct clicking sound of a gun. She whirled around and saw a police officer approaching her. "Hands above your head, please, miss."

She complied but didn't understand what was going on? Why was the police here? Had something gone wrong with the fencing? Even then, the cops wouldn't have gone after her. "Wait. Why?"

"Possession of stolen goods. Left you holding."

"I have nothing," she stated.

"Sorry to tell you, but your boy took off. Probably in Canada by now. He called in a tip. Told us to take a look at the surveillance footage at the train station. Give me the watch. Now!"

Dumbfounded, Emma jerked at the order and slipped off the watch. The policeman holstered his weapon and went towards her, taking the watch and asking, "Do you know your rights?"

"Yeah," she managed quietly.

"Good girl. Turn around."

She did and when feeling the cold metal of the cuffs encase around her wrists, she replayed the cop's words inside her head and made an attempt to shake herself out the trance she was in.

"…your boy took off…called in a tip…in Canada by now…"

"Where's the rest of the watches?"

"I…" She didn't know. With Neal. Where was he? What had he done? Why had he…?

"Your pirate shows at the most absurd times."

"Where are the watches?" the cop asked, this time more forcefully.

"They're gone," she whispered. "They're not coming back." 

* * *

**Two months later**

**Vancouver, Canada**

August had no room to judge Neal, but the yellow VW Beetle was probably stolen. When Neal got out of the car and he got a better look at him, August got the feeling this was the last thing the young man would ever steal. August tilted his chin at the car and said, "One last hurrah, I'm guessing."

"It's for Emma. You gotta make sure she gets it." He looked down and kicked the pavement. "So she won't have to take the bus anymore."

Nodding, August asked, "Where'd you go?"

Neal shrugged. "I tried to lose myself. Didn't work." He sniffed and stared off into the harbor. "You sure she's going to be okay?"

"I'm surprised you're asking. From what you've said about her, you should already to know the answer to that." August sighed and said, "She got eleven months. In a minimum security place in Phoenix. I'm not going to tell you which one."

"That should be me! I should be doing that time!" Neal gestured to his surroundings. "And this? This is different. Neverland was different. We survived because we had each other. Emma and I, we had a deal. A plan. She loved me, and she's never going to forgive me. She shouldn't."

"The irony, huh?"

Neal blanched and then cleared his throat, holding up the envelope in his hand. "Look, I don't even really know who you are, but if you care about Emma like you say you do, give her this. I fenced the watches. She's going to need money when she gets out."

August stared at the thick stack of bills, longer than intended. "Money is not what she needs. Not for what's ahead."

"Can you just see she gets it? And one more thing. If anything changes, and she does her job, this insanity ends, and she's free…"

"I'll send you a postcard," August promised. 

* * *

**Minimum Security Corrections Facility**

**Phoenix, Arizona**

The door to Emma's cell opened, and she looked up to see Loretta walking in with a small package. "Swan, you got mail. Know anyone named Phuket?" The security guard started tugging at the corner of the envelope. "I've got to open this in front of you. Those are the rules."

A swan keychain slid into Loretta's hand and attached that was a car key.

"Okay, look. Car keys. Hope you got the car it goes with."

Emma said nothing. No, she didn't and refused to think about why Neal sent her a key. From Phuket. Is that where he went? The bastard decided to skip Vancouver and London all together and go to goddamn Thailand?

It was hard to breathe, but she managed to fill her lungs to keep from breaking down again. She'd gone two days without crying and desperately didn't want to shed another tear over Neal again. She didn't know why he did what he did and probably never would if he was in freakin' Asia, but if he hadn't wanted her along or just her, then why didn't he just leave her in Virginia in peace.

In the depths of her brain, her old roommate's voice, Elena, piped up and crudely informed, "He creamed your cherry pie, and he's done with you. It's a guy thing. Get over it."

Yeah, okay, Emma mused. I'll get right on that.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you, Neal Cassidy.

I hate you, Baelfire.

I wish I never met you.

This wasn't worth Neverland, and neither were you.

It wasn't working, and Emma remembered what she had told herself in Neverland when she realized she loved Hook. She had told herself she was young and had plenty of time to fall in love again. She had promised herself it would be more appropriate and less dramatic and not unrealistic.

One out of three, and she was paying for it like she had the first time.

Emma made no such promise to herself that the third time would the charm. On the contrary, she made a vow to never be fooled again. There would be no third time. If there was one thing the foster system taught her, it was that being alone was lonely but having someone and then losing them was agonizing. She would gladly pick the first than continuously feel the latter.

"Nothing else. No letter. Sorry. But good news. You get a car when you get out," said Loretta.

Emma leaned her head against the cement wall behind her and refused to let a single tear fall. More would come if she allowed it, so she sucked it up and told herself she would be okay. One day she would be fine, and the tumor of betrayal and hurt inside her chest wouldn't feel so heavy.

Staring down at her the positive pregnancy test in her hand, Emma heard the guard add, "And a baby. Congratulations."

Until that day, what the hell was she going to do?


	13. Chapter 13

**Storybrooke**

**October 2011**

Sitting alone at one of the outside lunch tables, Henry popped open his Toy Story lunchbox and pulled out his pristinely wrapped ham and cheese sandwich with absolutely no mayonnaise. He made a face at all the leafy green stuff his mom stuffed between the slices of bread and pondered the idea of eating the two sizeable portions of homemade, spiced apple crisp first but decided to save the best for last and unwrapped his main course from its wax paper.

His mom wouldn’t have usually doubled on the dessert, but she told him he was adopted that morning. Deep down, Henry had wondered. He didn’t really look like his mom, and most of the other kids in his class looked like their parents. At first, he thought that maybe he resembled his absent father and badgered his mom with questions about him. This morning at breakfast while they ate oatmeal, she snapped at his persistent pestering and told him the truth. She wasn’t his biological mother.

Henry bit into his sandwich and wished he’d taken up his mom’s offer of not going to school that day. He’d been very upset earlier, to the point that he cried so much, he puked. It had been awful finding out his mom hadn’t actually given birth to him, but what upset him the most was that his birth mother hadn’t wanted him.

Why did she give him away? Did she not love him? Why hadn’t he been enough?

His mom had sharply instructed him to not think about his birth mother and that she didn’t matter. It was her loss and her mistake. His mom added that he was _her_ son and hers alone, and she was not going to compete with a woman who wasn’t even present.

 _“Have a good cry about it, Henry, and then go wash your face and never think about her again. I’m going to make your lunch and take you to school when you’re ready_. _I won't make you ride the bus this morning._ ”

Once his sandwich was reduced to crumbs, he started in on his Fruitable juice box and carrot sticks and paused mid-slurp when Miss Blanchard, the fourth grade teacher of Storybrooke Elementary, sat down and joined him at the table.

“Hi, Henry,” she said and placed her satchel on the table before pulling out her own lunch pail. Hers had an ample, yellow-breasted blue jay on the lid. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”

Henry shrugged his small shoulders. “Okay.”

“How are you liking Mrs. Shoemaker? She’s very nice, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled and opened the Tupperware containing the large pile of spiced apple crisp.

“Mmm. That smells good. You know, I make a mean pear crisp?” Miss Blanchard commented and then sighed. “Henry, I heard you had a rough morning. I probably shouldn’t have, but I eavesdropped on a conversation this morning between Mrs. Shoemaker and your mother. It isn’t my business and you’re not my student, but if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

Henry poked at his perfectly cooked apples with a spork and huffed. “It’s just…why didn’t she want me? My birth mom.”

“Oh, Henry,” Miss Blanchard said and patted his shoulder. “She was probably in a position where she couldn’t keep you. She probably wanted you to have your best chance.” A funny look flittered across her pretty features, and she shook her head as if to snap out of a daze. “And, well, you have a good home here. You have a mom who loves you, a nice home, and I suspect a lot of toys.”

“Yeah,” he said in disinterest. “But I just don’t know.”

Miss Blanchard nodded gently and pensively and then opened her satchel again, pulling out a large, thick book. On the cover in prominent letters, it read _Once Upon a Time_. “Do you like fairytales?”

“They’re kind of for girls, aren’t they?”

“Not all of them.” She laughed and opened the book. “This morning, I was cleaning out my bedroom closet. Like I've done every week, thousands of times, and I found this book. It was there. Like Magic.”

“I don’t think magic is real, Miss Blanchard. I mean…I heard my mom last Christmas put the presents underneath the tree when she thought I was sleeping, and I pretend to be asleep when she puts money underneath my pillow.”

“Of course magic isn’t real, Henry. I’m only saying it was strange how I never noticed this book before.”

“It probably goes to the school library.”

“Maybe,” she said. "But as I was flipping through it, I realized something. Many of these characters don’t have perfect homes or families or backgrounds. Some of them lost a mom or a dad or both, yet they still can find hope and happiness. Sometimes, it even finds them. Here." Miss Blanchard scooted the book towards him. "Why don’t you hold onto it for a while? Maybe some hope will find you?”

“I’ve never read a book this big on my own.”

“You’ll do fine, Henry. There aren’t too many big words.”

Henry shot her a dubious expression and flipped the page, landing on an illustrated picture of Snow White and Prince Charming at their wedding. Henry eyes bulged and looked up at Miss Blanchard and gasped. In a satiny and feathery wedding dress, ebony hair done up in curls and secured with a tiara, the fourth grade teacher bit into her peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich.

“Did I get pink goo on my face?” she asked, mouth stuffed.

Henry smiled, something cool and exciting bubbling up inside him.

* * *

**Misthaven**

Hook’s eyes fluttered open and he caressed the remnants of the dream of a young lady he hadn’t thought of in a while. A couple of years had come and gone since he consciously thought of Emma Swan. Alas, she had crept into his slumbering mind and rattled around, causing havoc like she had done some eleven years ago. In his dream, she was a bit aged from how he remembered her. She had been lying next to him on her side in the lumpy, straw-padded bed in his shack. Her head had been propped up by the support of her arm, and when he had reached out to stroke her cheek, she allowed him and then called him by his christened name.

 _"Emma,"_ he said in return.

 _“Killian,”_ she repeated and grabbed his hand from her face and lowered it beneath the covers to her unclothed breast. She nibbled at her bottom lip and then said, " _Take me."_

Before he could even assure himself of what that entailed exactly because she couldn't possibly mean _that_ , Emma had coerced him onto his back and encased him inside her awaiting depths. He groaned in surprise and pleasure, and her hands moved up his torso, resting on his chest as she lifted and lowered herself, using her knees as leverage. His hand and wrapped stump massaged her thighs, and he began to lift his own hips each time she sank down, eliciting a pleasured and breathy gasp from her lips.

 _"Yes. Say my name,"_ he had encouraged, his fingers moving to where they were joined, circling and rubbing with the intention of making her see stars. 

She keened and the rhythm of her hips stuttered _. "Did you want this? Back then?"_

_"You were a wee one, darling. I couldn't bring myself to that point. But yes."_

_"You can have me now. Take me."_ Her head had dropped back, and the ends of her long hair tickled his upper thighs. The sensation nearly undid him, and he flipped her over onto her back and drove into her. Between her moans and gasps of ecstasy and feeling of being inside her, he was damned near blinded by need.

When they had both reached their peaks, he kissed her, devouring her mouth entirely and leaving no part untasted. They had separated when coming down from their high, and he had said, _"I believe I still miss you, Swan."_

She reached up and delicately combed her fingertips through hair, her green eyes indecisive. " _You know_ _I don’t love you anymore. So much time has gone by, and I never waited.”_

_"But you've missed me, too?"_

Emma sat up and gave him a bitter half-smile. “ _It’s funny_.”

“ _What is?"_

_“That you’re dreaming of me tonight of all nights.”_

The dream ended there, and Hook had woken up. It had been such a strange, arousing yet nonsensical dream. He brushed it away, rolling onto his side to press open mouth kisses to his bed mate’s bare back. Since his stealthy migration to the small community, he was never without companionship for the night. Gods, he had forgotten what it had been like to bed a different woman nightly. Again, the community was small and the selection of attractive women sparse. He’d probably cycle through in a fortnight.

He’d come to the small section of land to avoid the ogres roaming the lands and at Cora’s request. She claimed to be along in due time and told him to feel free in making himself comfortable and attaining the trust of the community’s leader Lancelot who was a skilled warrior but also a traitor to the great Arthur Pendragon and the Knights of the Round Table.

Hook toyed with his companion’s long, blonde tresses. They were a few shades darker than Emma’s, but they were mighty lovely nonetheless as was the woman they were attached to. He wrapped the locks around all five of his fingers and yanked gently to stir her from her sleep. She awoke with an alarmed gasp and moaned, pleading for him to pull harder. Hours before, she had begged with the same earnest for him to straddle her torso, wrap a rough, frayed roped around her neck, and spill his seed on her bosom.

Hook may be a pirate, but he never took pleasure in binding a woman, even if she desired it. Naturally, his lovemaking could be both gentle and rough, depending on the circumstances and lady he was entertaining, but there were lines he didn’t fancy crossing, and he had told Miss Lana that neither of them needed such brutality to achieve a satisfying night.

Apparently, he’d been naïve in his words, for the lass currently wanted him to rip out her hair. She stooped to using every trick in the book to get him do as she pled, but his desire for her weakened by the second. The next thing he knew, she was vacating his bed in a snit, angrily putting on her clothes and stomping out of his shack.

Now alone, Hook’s musings were drawn back to Emma and sincerely hoped she hadn’t acquired a taste similar to Lana’s. Of course, he wasn’t about to morosely muse about how an older Emma deserved only gentle coitus accompanied with scented candles, poetry, and rose petals on the sheets. Even at her chaste state of sixteen, she hadn’t radiated that kind of temperament. Girls like her. Women like her, they needn't such frivolity. Romance and seduction bounced off females akin to Emma like a magical force field. There was no faffing about with pretty words of love and heart-felt oaths of fidelity.

On the other hand, Emma had valued kindness which was why she took such a shine to Baelfire.

Bloody hell, Bae. Truthfully, Hook had thought more about the lad than Emma in the past eleven years. Nonetheless, it had been a while. Bae was what? Twenty-five, perhaps. Not terribly far from twenty-six. Emma would be...twenty-eight? He didn't know the exact date of her birth, actually. All he knew was that when he met her, she'd been _two days_ away from seventeen. Bloody hell, like that had even mattered in Neverland. Age and time were tricky things to keep track of while there.

Something tickled Hook’s memory, and he remembered something Emma had said in his dream.

_“It’s funny…you’re dreaming of me tonight of all nights. After so long.”_

How odd.

He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes, reckoning he should catch some sleep. There was still plenty of moonlight left for the night, having retired to his humble abode with Miss Lana fairly early. Hook was nearly asleep when the shack’s door opened, and Cora shuffled in like she owned the bloody place. _He_ didn't even own the place but earned his keep as the community's blacksmith.

“Twenty-eight years have come and gone. Soon, the curse will be broken. It’s time we start the second part of our plan.”

* * *

**Boston 2011**

With the small, white box in hand, Emma entered her apartment and kicked off her heels, her feet aching from the change in pressure.

Bad idea. Complete shit idea. Should’ve worn flats.

She padded into her sparsely decorated kitchen and set the box on the counter, opening it and shoving a star-tipped candled into the white frosted cupcake. Lighting a match, she lit the candle and rested her chin on crossed arms, staring wistfully into the flame.

“Another banner year,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments before blowing out the candle, flinching when hearing the doorbell ring. Frowning, she went to the door and opened it, arching a brow when seeing her neighbor who lived two floors above her.

“What?” she said, taking note of the brown paper bag tucked underneath August’s arm.

He opened the bag and pulled out a large bottle of tequila. “My girlfriend dumped me. Care to join me in drowning my sorrows?”

“Uh…” She wrinkled her brow and her knee-jerk reaction was to say no. August had moved into the complex four days after she did a month ago. They had officially met on the elevator, and he accidently dropped his type-writing case on her foot. He had been embarrassed and scrambled to collect it and then started talking.

A lot.

From that point, he took the liberty to try and insert himself into her life with his smooth words and mixed signals. Since he said his girlfriend dumped him, Emma now realized he was looking for a friend and not a companion, but it had been impossible for her to tell. One moment, he’d playfully flirt and then next he’d happen to show up at a bar where she was looking for someone to take the edge off after a rough bounty. August would totally cock-block her, warding away any guy wanting to buy her a drink, at the same time hinting she shouldn’t wear such revealing attire **.** Men might get the wrong impression.

“Come on. I got a good brand, and you definitely look like you need a shot or seven.”

Emma looked from his scruffy face to the bottle and back. He carried a slightly creepy vibe to him, there was no denying that. Regardless, he wasn’t the fugliest thing she’d allowed into her bed, not that it would even go that far. She’d have to consume the entire bottle of tequila, and he’d have to promise to never speak to her again afterwards for her to consider sleeping with him.

One night stands only with not so perfect strangers but with men who weren’t afraid to give it to her good and not ask her out for breakfast the following morning.

One would think those type of guys wouldn’t be hard to find, but it seemed when they got a good look at her the ‘morning after’, they were spouting Byron and limericks and sonnets, the weirdoes.

August seemed the type to prepare her breakfast. Not a full out breakfast with scrambled eggs, bacon, and waffles. He’d probably serve her up some Oreo Pop Tarts with some hair of the dog because in the last few weeks she had become associated with him, he seemed to know her pretty damned well.

Like how in the hell did he _happen_ to buy Patron, her favorite?

Again, creep-vibe ringing loud and clear.

But it was her birthday, and there was a wine stain on her dress, and she was alone. Hadn’t she wished to not be on this one day? Any other day, fine, but not today.

“All right,” Emma said, unsure, and widened the gap of her door to let him pass. She led him to her kitchen and gestured to the stools at the counter and retrieved some glasses from the cupboard.

He stripped off his leather jacket and draped it over the stool and sat down, pointing to the bakery box. “What’s the cupcake for?”

“It’s nothing. Just a treat for myself for the evening.”

August plucked the candle out of the cupcake and gave her a half smile. She grabbed the tequila and unscrewed the lid, pouring a small (but not too small) amount into each.

“Is it your birthday?” He popped the end of the candle into his mouth, sucking off the whipped frosting but appeared as if he were smoking a strange and comical cigarette.

She shrugged. “Help yourself,” she said and brought the glass to her lips and downed her drink in two gulps.

August saluted her with his glass. “Happy birthday, Emma.”

While pouring her second round, she asked, “So you seem like a somewhat decent person. Why'd your girlfriend dump you? Did she find out you seemed to have it out for your neighbor's sex life?”

He sputtered into his glass and pounded on his chest. “Just looking out for you.”

A small flare of irritation sparked inside Emma, and she asked, “Who asked you?”

“You seem like a great girl, is all. You deserve better than dicks.”

“It’s not up to you when it comes to who and what I deserve, and you still haven’t answered my question. Why’d your girlfriend dump you?”

It was August’s turn to shrug. “She had her reasons, but…” he pointed his finger, “It made me realize something.”

“I’m not going to guess.”

“I didn’t want to take her on vacation with me anyway. I had this trip all planned out. We were going to this quaint, little town up in Maine. Storybrooke. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“I hear it’s like a fairytale. You like fairytales?”

Emma frowned, her lips hovering on the rim of her glass for a few moments before replying, “No.”

“My favorite was always Snow White. Next to Pinocchio of course. What’s your favorite?”

“I don’t have one. I don’t like them.”

August looked like he had something quick and witty on the tip of his tongue, but he bit his lip and took a drink before saying, “You should come with me.”

Emma snorted. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m serious. It’s a pretty place. It’s in Maine, so a lot of trees.”

“I don’t like Maine,” she said. “I don’t even know you, and you’re asking me to go on a trip with you that was planned for your ex-girlfriend.”

“It would be platonic. Two friends enjoying each other’s company.”

“Friends? When did that happen? All I did was allow you to drink in my kitchen and make moves on my cupcake and… _shut up!_ That is not what I meant, you pervert!”

August burst out laughing, and Emma tried to hold off her own giggles, but four glasses of tequila was making that feat practically impossible. She restored to an embarrassed chuckle and cupped her forehead.

“You look like you need to get away for a while, Emma.”

She shook her head. “Not to Maine and not with you.”

August stared at her for a long time and sighed. “Why don’t you like fairytales?”

“It’s not uncommon. I just don’t.”

Her mind was starting to fuzz, and a halo was beginning to form round August. She contemplated the freshly filled glass in front of her. She should probably stop. Maybe even brew a pot of coffee and dig for some Ritz crackers in her pantry to take the edge of the inevitable.

Emma knocked back the drink. The guy was talking about Maine and fairy tales, and she couldn’t handle both. Maybe one or the other but not _both_.

“You must have a reason.”

“They’re not real.” Emma massaged her forehead. “I don’t like them because filling people's heads with that nonsense is leading them up to disappointment and failure. There. That’s why I don’t like them. Happy?”

“That’s not why you don’t like them,” August said and yanked Emma’s glass from her before she could do away with it like the others, ignoring her protesting glower. “You don’t like them because you’re afraid they might be real.”

Emma froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. She gasped softly and regarded him, sober and painfully clear-headed. “Who are you?”

“Just call me August. For now,” he said. “And Emma? I know about Neverland.”

“What? I-I…” She shook her head and pressed her back against the cupboards behind her, putting distance between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I think you should leave.”

August’s expression turned somber, and he said, “I can’t imagine what you went through when you were there, and all I can say is that I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“You are a crazy person! Get out of my apartment!”

He fished something out the pocket of his leather jacket, and it looked like an old newspaper clipping. He unfolded and flattened it on the counter and pointed. Emma apprehensively leaned closer to read the faded article and then brought the piece of paper closer to make sure she read the heading right.

“You’ve been stalking me!"

“I was the boy, Emma. The seven year old boy who found you.”

Frustrated, she began to pace, never taking her glaring eyes off August. “You’re lying.”

“You know I’m not.”

“God! I can’t believe…” She stopped and scoffed. “I’m calling the police. You're obviously some lunatic-”

“Your parents are in Storybrooke. They’re in Maine waiting for you to find them.”

Emma located her phone and in her small sitting room on the coffee table. “I don’t have parents, and I’m pretty sure Storybrooke doesn’t exist, and fairytales are not real!"

“Neverland was…is. Second star to the right and-"

“Shut up!” Emma threw her phone and fell to her knees, hugging herself and tried not to rock like an unstable person having an overwhelming flashback of a traumatic event.

Her feet still ached from those heels, but what if it wasn’t from the shoes? What if it was from the uneven, earthy grounds of Neverland? What if she was still running? What if she was dreaming and none of this was happening?

“It was real, Emma,” August said and she snapped back to the present.

“I know!” she yelled. “I know, but how do you?”

Instead of encouraging her to her feet, August joined her on the floor and handed her the glass he deprived from her. She drank it and wiped her lips with the back of her hand, staring at a spot on the rug.

“It’s…well, let me just say that I’m from a place like Neverland. A place called Misthaven.”

“Misthaven,” Emma whispered, remembering the place that was also called the Enchanted Forest. Neal, Hook, and a handful of other Lost Boys had been from there.

“It’s where you were born,” August added, “and you were brought here to this realm.”

“Realm,” she repeated, testing the word she hadn’t used in eleven years. It felt foreign and bitter on her tongue, so she shook her head. “No.”

“Emma.”

“No.” She climbed to her feet and stumbled back to the counter, leaning on it for support. “Whoever you are, I put Neverland behind me a long time ago. And Misthaven? I’m not from there.”

August looked like he wanted to argue, and she saw the protest die on his lips. Eventually, he said, “I get it’s hard to believe, and I can’t make you. Come with me to Storybrooke, and I’ll show you. I’ll show you it’s all real, not just Peter Pan but others.”

“Others,” Emma said, swallowing. “Even if what you saying’s true, Neverland was a nightmare. Every day for four months, I thought I was going to die. Terrible, _awful_ things happened to me there because of Peter Pan, because of Captain Hook. I don’t want to go anywhere near _others_.”

“I _am_ one of those others, Emma, and I need your help. I’m going to show you something.” August sat down on her sofa chair and rolled up the left cuff of his jeans. “Do you see it?”

Emma stared at the smooth, wooden appendage peeking out from his pant leg. “I see your prosthetic. I had no idea, August, but-”

“No,” he growled and started unbuckling his belt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?!”

August dropped his pants, and Emma’s eyes fell to his plain black cotton boxers and then to his lower thigh.

“What in the hell?” she muttered. From August’s knee down, the leg was completely wood. The appendage seemed to be attached directly to his left quadriceps. No surgical evidence of screws or surgical scars keeping the prosthetic in place. When her eyes focused even more, it was like she was witnessing a slow, progressing spread of polished granules creep up his thigh.

“In Misthaven, I was called Pinocchio.”

Emma wished she had never made that wish over her cupcake. God, she wished she would’ve forgone the cupcake entirely and just purchased a bottle of wine and some chocolate Twinkies and rubbed one off for the night before passing out half-buzzed.

“I’m turning back into _wood_. I probably deserve it, but I don’t want that to happen because this is going to kill me. I need you, to come with me to Storybrooke. I don’t want to die, and I made a promise twenty-eight years ago that I would bring you to your parents. They _are_ there and are waiting for you to find them. Pack a suitcase or nothing at all, just come with me. If not for that, then for me. This one favor, and I’ll be out of your life forever. I promise.” 

* * *

**Maine**

**Two Hours Later...**

“Stop the car,” Emma said once Augusta was ten minutes behind them. “Pull over.”

“We’re almost there, Emma.”

She pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the passenger side window of her car. August only had a motorcycle, and he saw it prudent they travel together. She had sluggishly and drunkenly offered up her keys to him back in Boston in hopes that she wouldn't regret it. She didn't trust this guy, but she wasn't about to drive drunk.

“Please,” she lamented, the three cups of coffee sloshing unhappily around her in her gut. She didn’t have to pee just yet, but she felt sick. “I’m going to wretch.”

August pulled a small, rectangular box out of his the inner lining of his leather jacket and handed it to her. “Take a couple of these. They’ll help.”

“You just happen to have Ru 21 on your person?” Emma popped the cap and shook two tablets into her palm.

“Always.”

Chucking mirthlessly, she knocked back the pills and with her bottle of water, the liquid doing nothing to settle her stomach. If anything, her stomach retaliated even more and she doubled over, sticking her head between her knees. “Was the tequila necessary?”

“I didn’t know you were going to drink so much. The goal was to only soften you to the idea of coming up here with me.”

She sighed and slowly straightened. “Because you’re Pinocchio, and you are turning back into wood. Somehow me being in this nonexistent place called Storybrook is supposed to stop that. And…my parents are there waiting for me.”

“It’s not that crazy, Emma,” he told her, and there was a near smile in his tone.

“Oh, it is. I’m still not sure…” She flicked her wrist at him and then rolled down the window to let the cold air smart her face. She breathed in the crisp, fresh air. It smelt like a clean autumn night, a bit damp from the storm they missed earlier in the evening.

August. Pinocchio. Whoever the hell this guy was. The wood replacing his body mass must’ve addled his brain. Her parents were waiting for her in Maine? Seriously? Emma had come to terms with the fact that her parents, or at least her birth mother, had once _been_ in Maine. She specialized in finding people, and she had tried Maine. God, had she ever. Not physically of course. That was what the internet was for, but the Pine Tree State was well and truly lice-combed.

“Pan is hardly the only thing out there,” August said again.

“That doesn’t make me feel better. He was a monster.” _Is_. God, he was probably still alive. Snatching children from their bedrooms. She and Neal hadn’t been able to keep ahold of Shadow when they crash landed into the frigid and questionable waters of the Charles River Basin . It darted off towards the starry sky, undoubtedly flying back to Neverland and its lord.

“In a half hour, we’ll be to Storybrooke. We’ll find an inn and you can sleep off that tequila. I have a feeling you aren’t going to be any use until you’re sober.”

Emma snorted. “You know I looked this place up on my phone. Google didn't recognize it.”

August smiled. “What does Google say about Neverland?”

“Yeah, but it’s a known, fictitious place. Storybrooke, Maine doesn't even pop up. If it is real, how did you find out about it?”

August glanced at her. “Because I went looking for it a week ago, and I found it. It's visible to me because I'm from the Enchanted Forest. It will be the same for you.”

“Right.” Emma nodded, and smacked her lips in annoyance. He hadn’t actually told her how she supposedly ended up in Maine, but she hadn’t asked. It would make him think she was interested in him spouting off a string of lies. If he was Pinocchio, shouldn’t his nose be poking her windshield at this point. “Because I was born there, too, but really? I wasn’t. I was born here. Probably in this state.”

“You had a white knitted blanket wrapped around you,” he said. “Your name was weaved in with purple ribbon. Emma, I wasn’t lying to you when I said I was the seven year old boy who found you. But I didn’t just find you. I was waiting for you to come through, and you did. We were sent to the same orphanage, and I…well, you’ve heard my story.”

“I don’t know anything about you, August, except that you think you’re a Disney character,” Emma said. “And you happen to have a wooden leg. A _weird_ wooden leg.”

“I’m talking about Pinocchio’s story. I never could make the right choices. Temptation always got the better of me. I always cave.”

“Sounds like someone I knew,” she said, thinking of Neal for two seconds before finding another subject to distract her and lamely commented, “There’s a lot of trees.”

“I want you tell me about Neverland.”

Emma jerked in her seat, pinning August with a shocked expression. “No."

“Was there magic?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Pixies?”

“No.” She hit her fist on the arm rest and shook her head. There had only been one. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

“You’ve been shown the impossible, and you still refuse to believe.”

“There’s a difference between knowing and believing, August. I know Neverland exists, but I don’t believe in...anything.”

August’s mood turned somber. “Not just for my sake, but for yours, I hope that changes.”

He then tapped the brakes and merged onto the exit lane, and Emma sank into her seat as they got off I-95. “This isn’t Storybrooke.”

“It’s just a little, roadside service town. Storybrooke isn’t far from here, but we have a stop to make first.”

Emma’s fears were confirmed when he pulled up to a diner and killed the engine. “I’m not getting out of the car.”

August pointed to the trees behind the establishment. “You came through there. I can show you the tree if you’d like.”

“The tree. Is that some sort of euphemism or are you actually talking about a tree?”

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he opened the car door. “Let’s go see it.”

She didn't budge from her seat.

The man exhaled and hung his head for a second and then said, “How about some cheese fries first then? Or maybe some pie and coffee? I’m sure they have cherry.”

Emma stared at him, mouth agape and then finally said, “Look, I don't know how you know so much about me, but it's not helping your case."

August looked up at the sky as if seeking out an answer to a question. "I’m just trying to get you to believe in what I've said. I know it’s strange that I know so much about you, but I am far past being concerned about how creepy I’m coming off. I am the boy in the newspaper article, and I am Pinocchio. You know I’m not lying, and a part of you does believe. If you didn’t, you would’ve saw a normal leg and not wood.” He got out of the car and limped to the other side, opening Emma’s door for her and offering his hand. “So come with me, and we’ll both revisit long, near forgotten memories, and I'll explain about how you got here from the Enchanted Forest.”


	14. Chapter 14

A ray of brightness spilling through the gap below the blinds fell onto Emma’s face. Her brow pinched in annoyance, and her eyes slit open. She found herself facedown on the master bed in the cabin August broke into when they arrived to Storyrbooke. After he told her an outrageous tale of Snow White, the Evil Queen, curses, and a savior; she yelled at him solidly for ten minutes before stalking away from the hallowed tree he showed her and out of the shrubberies where she supposedly arrived twenty-eight years earlier. She had gone back to her car, fully intending to drive back to Boston but didn't have her keys and the doors were locked. August had limped behind her and told her they were almost there, and it would be ridiculous to turn back now.

Ridiculous? The guy had a wooden peg growing out of his thigh, and he apparently came to this world via a magical wardrobe.

It had been three o’ clock in the morning, and she was exhausted. There was no way she could get back to Boston in one piece, so she agreed to at least visit this place called Storybrooke and would leave once she had the rest needed to return. When they got back into the car, she fell asleep almost immediately. Sleeping for twenty minutes before August woke her up, and they were surrounding by trees again, but there was a cabin in front of them. She had hoped for a motel and voiced her disapproval when he picked the lock to the front door. He told her that, yes, there was an owner but no tenants. No one would bother them, and they needed to stay out of sight for as long as possible. The Evil Queen, also known as Madam Mayor Regina Mills, had eyes and ears almost everywhere in town and a sure way to get noticed was to rent a room at the main B&B on Main street.

Irritated but mostly tired, she chose not to start another fight about his hoax of story and gravitated towards a mattress. The cabin was furnished yet cold and dusty. It had two bedrooms, and the first one she found was the master’s. She'd promptly fell onto the bed and curled up into a ball to ward off the chill, drifting off in minutes.

The cabin was no longer freezing, and Emma’s eyes fell to the electric heater plugged in right beside the bed. August must’ve came in and set it up while she’d been asleep. He also must’ve draped a blanket over her, as well. She shifted the material away from her face and moved into a sitting position, squinting at the window and trying to decipher how late in the day it was without opening the blinds and letting in the harsh lights her eyes weren't quite ready to endure. The birds outside were chirping and tweeting loudly, so it could possibly still be morning.

The scent of coffee and pancakes wafted through the air, and she stumbled out of the room towards the kitchen to see August preparing breakfast.

So not an Oreo Pop Tart and hair of the dog kind of guy. Too bad.

He caught her eye and stifled a laugh…badly and turned his focus back on the griddle.

“What?” she grumbled.

“Nothing. Hungry?”

Her pride hammered at her to turn up her nose and tell him she was going back to Boston right away, but she was starving, and the coffee smelled heavenly. Without a word, she found a plate in the cupboard, and August slid two hot pancakes onto her plate. On the dining table, there was butter, syrup, a pitcher of water, two empty glasses, and two empty mugs. She sat down and spread an ample amount of butter and drizzled on some syrup while August poured her some freshly brewed coffee.

“When I was up here a week ago, I only got stuff that wouldn’t go bad. No milk or cream, sorry.”

Emma swallowed her bit of pancake and wiped her frowning mouth with a napkin. “You had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I had to be prepared. As cozy as Granny’s Diner and her inn are, it’s a hotspot for the locals, especially the sheriff and the mayor.”

“How are we supposed to get around if we can’t…you know…go around?”

August sighed. “We won’t be able to stay invisible for long. When I was here last week, it was hard to keep my head down and not be noticed. Yes, these people are in a haze, but they’ve only seen each other for twenty-eight years. They’ve never seen an outsider.”

“Right,” Emma said slowly, suppressing her scoff while harshly cutting small triangles out of her stack of pancakes. “So what’s on the agenda, huh? You got me up here to break some curse and to see my parents.”

“We’re going on a hike.”

Emma paused mid-chew. “Seriously?”

“It’s only about a mile from here.”

“What is?”

“You’ll see.”

Her gaze fell to his bad leg and said, “Should you really be hiking?”

He smiled wistfully and replied, “It’s not hurting so bad today.”

They finished their breakfast and tidied up the kitchen. Emma then went to the bathroom and saw why August had chuckled at her earlier. Her hair was atrocious, and she contemplated having a shower but decided against it. She was going on a hike and would just get dirty and sweaty, anyway. Instead, she washed her face and brushed her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail.

August met her outside on the porch with a small pack slung around a shoulder, and they started on their trek through the forest and finding a trail which he told her would lead them where they needed to go.

The air was brisk and the trees were different, but Emma was reminded of Neverland from being encased in such a dense forest, especially when the clouds opened and started to sprinkle. Her stay in that place happened so many years ago and for such a short amount of time compared to the rest of her life, but it stayed with her. Neverland was never far from her mind and memories. As great as it would be to forget her time there or even try to persuade herself it was just a bad dream, the scar on her shoulder told her otherwise.

Since August had promised a mile’s journey to wherever, it wasn’t long before they came to a clearing. A part of that clearing was a well, quaint and picturesque like it had literally come out of a story book.

“A watering hole,” she said, nodding.

“I became familiar with the town the week I was up here. Storybrooke is set up for tourism even though no one has ever visited. There was a lot of cookie-cutter history as well as small-town myths. One of them is about a well. Now according to Storybrook legend, there’s something special about this well. The locals say the water from the well is fed by an underground lake, and that lake has magical properties.”

August went over to the well and set his pack on the ledge, taking two tin cups out of it. He extended them to Emma, and she stared at him bemusedly before walking over and accepting them while he pulled at the rope to bring up the bucket from the depths of the well. When the bucket reached the top, August rested it on the ledge and Emma stepped closer and handed the cups to August. He dipped both into the water and offered her one and said, “They say that if you drink the water from the well, something lost will be returned to you.”

Emma’s lips hovered over the rim of the tin cup as August drank his. Was he hoping his leg would magically become flesh and bone again? It would take a lot more than just some dribbles of ground water and wishful-thinking in fulfilling that wish. She may know that there’s magic out there, but it was in different realms—different worlds. There wasn’t magic here in hers. It’s why Neal had wanted to come to this one so badly.

 _But magic can reach here, Emma_. _You know that better than most,_ quipped a voice inside her head and it sounded a lot like Pan’s.

Emma hesitantly sipped at the cold, mineral-y water and contemplated August’s last words. Something lost would supposedly be returned to her. In her twenty-eight years, she lost many things, but most she couldn’t say for certain she wanted them returned.

She finished her water and gave the cup back to August. “You’re not going to ask what I wished for, are you?”

“I can probably guess.” He put the cups back in his pack and slung it over his shoulder. “Aside from a little rain, it’s still a nice day. The sun will be out again, most likely. We can explore the woods more if you’d like.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s okay.”

“In that case,” he slung the pack around his shoulder, “let’s get back to the cabin and get ready to head into town.”

“You pretty much said you wanted to avoid it. Now you want to go skipping through Main Street.”

Getting back on the trail, August replied, “Not Main Street. Storybrooke Elementary.”

Emma faltered behind him and made a face. “A school?”

“Your mom’s a teacher there. I figured you’d want to see her.” He glanced back at her, grinning. “Don’t you?”

“Well…” She folded her arms and glared at him. “I doubt it be will my mom you want to meet, but I don’t think walking up to this woman is-”

“We won’t. Afternoon recess is in a couple of hours, and she’ll be out watching the kids. Come on, Emma. I _know_ you want to see her.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I do know what it’s like to want your parents and not have them.”

Emma mulled over his words and thought back to what he told her at that tree not far from that diner. His father had put him in the magical wardrobe first. If that was the case, wouldn’t August’s father be in Storybrooke?

“August, tell me something. If it’s all true, what you told me, then why haven’t you gone to see your dad? I mean, he would be here, right? I just find it _odd_ that you’re putting so much effort into making me believe when you should be worried about other things.”

August didn’t say anything for a few moments but eventually replied, “I saw my father last week. I didn’t go up to him because I knew he wouldn’t remember me. I miss him, but I’d rather reunite with him knowing who I am and _before_ I turn back into wood.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she mumbled. “If any of this made sense to begin with.”

When they got back to the cabin, Emma unwrapped her scarf from her neck and asked August something that had been weighing on her mind since he talked about his dad. “Where’s my dad?”

August sat down on one of the chairs close to the unlit fireplace and started unlacing his boots. “I don’t know. I tried finding him, but I couldn’t. He…may not be here.”

“If he’s not here, then where is he? Shouldn’t he be with my mom?”

“Your mom lives in an apartment by herself. Your dad’s not with her. I did look for him, but I didn’t seem him. He could be here. I just don’t know where. There is a chance…”

Emma silenced him with a shake of her head, the events in the past twelve hours becoming too surreal for her. Plus, August’s speculation that her birth father was actually dead while her mom lead some lonely life for twenty-eight years in a cursed state was a little to much to handle at the moment.

She didn’t believe it.

She didn’t believe it, but why was there an ache inside her? She hadn’t had her dad, or her mom for that matter, her whole life. It shouldn’t hurt to know he was dead.

“Emma, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m going to…” She pointed a thumb at the master bedroom, implicating that she was going to get washed up for their jaunt into town.

* * *

Over an hour later, Emma slid into her driver’s seat and August sat beside her. She’d taken her keys back, insisting she would drive from here on out, and that he should be prepared and not surprised if she ever decided a prompt return to Boston.

Emma followed the pathway out of the woods and turned left on the road. From there, August directed her onto Main Street, passing by several establishments and a broken clock tower. They weren’t on the street very long before turning onto another and soon found themselves in a more suburban setting. After a few more lefts and rights, Emma could see a crosswalk up ahead on the right and a school. She was about to say something to August when she caught him massaging his leg.

“Doesn’t hurt today, huh?” she quipped. “I got some pain killers in the glove box.”

“They won’t work. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she said, noticing the color leaving his cheeks and the grinding of his teeth.

“I’ll be-”

August’s reassuring lie was cut short when he let out a loud, pain-filled groan. He stretched his leg and kneaded it while writhing in his seat. He clenched his jaw shut and banged his fist against the door. She had no idea what to do or say but could only stare at him sympathetically and hope he didn’t damage her car door or break the window to distract himself from his agony.

“August, are-”

His eyes flew open and he yelled, “Stop! Stop the car!”

Emma swiveled her eyes back on the road and slammed on the brakes, her bumper well on its way in becoming acquainted with a tiny human in a school uniform. She let out a scream and could hear the small boy doing the same. When the car came to a screeching stop, she left August to himself and practically fell out of the car to make sure the kid was all right.

“Oh, my God!” She rounded her car and knelt down to come face to face with the little boy she almost turned into roadkill. “I am so, _so_ sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t see you.”

The kid nodded, his skin pale and making the freckles on his nose stand out prominently. He was snuggling a book bigger than himself to his chest. The weight seemed to counterbalance his ginormous Captain America backpack, preventing him from teetering forward or backward.

“What are you doing out in the street, kid?” she asked, placing a hand on her chest. Holy shit, she almost killed a child.

“I’m on the crosswalk,” he piped up defiantly.

“Yeah,” she said and glanced at the school and the children on swings and jungle-gym behind him. “But how come I get the feeling you aren’t supposed to be.”

Emma got down into a crouching position to get on eye-level with the boy and gave him a half-smile. He was a cutie, especially when he looked down at his little unlaced, converse shoes and shrugged.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asked.

“Henry,” he said and winced. “Are you going to tell my mom I ran away from school?”

Emma quirked a brow at his unintended confession. “Henry, I’m Emma. How about we make a deal? You don’t speak a word about me almost hitting you, and I won’t tell anybody you tried to run away from school.”

“Emma,” he said slowly, gaping in awe. “Like E-M-M-A?”

She nodded. “ _But_ you have to go back to school. Those are the terms, buddy.”

“It’s you! This. Is. _Awesome!_ ”

Emma frowned and flinched when the boy started jumping up and down, taking her by surprise when hopping into her space and resting his head on her shoulder in some strange hug that didn’t require his already busy arms.

“You found me,” he said. “And you’re so pretty.”

She pulled away from him and gave him a concerned look. “I don’t know who you think I am-”

“You’re my mom. My _real_ mom a-and I was going to go home and get on the computer and look for you and send you a letter because you don’t have a Facebook, but you found me first.”

Emma worried that maybe her bumper had indeed conked him a smidge. “I’m not your mom, kid.”

“Emma Swan,” he said, beaming and making her bristle from the use of her last name. “You gave me up for adoption six and half years ago and now you’re here to break the curse, right?”

Tearing her eyes away from the kid, she stood up and stared incredulously at August. This wasn’t possible.

Concerned, August pushed open his door and got halfway out of the car to poke his head out. “Is he okay?”

She advanced on him, pulling completely out of the car and shoving him against it. “What did you do?!”

He blinked at her, alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

“You can’t lie your way out of this one. I know you did something. What did you have to do get him to play along, you psycho?!”

“What are you talking about?!” he repeated.

“The kid! That kid!” She whipped her head to Henry who was looking at them nervously.

“Him? I’ve never seen him before. Why? What is this all about?”

“You…You’re _lying!_ ”

“I’m not lying, Emma. I swear to God, I’m not. Why are you acting this way?”

“Mom,” the kid said, walking closer to them and biting his lip. “Why are you angry? Is something wrong?”

“Mom?” August questioned, his eyes narrowing at the kid.

“Don’t play dumb. You know _everything_ about me. You expect me to believe you didn’t know I had a kid, and one is here in Storybrooke insisting that I’m his birth mom. I can’t believe you,” she said, disgusted. “I can’t believe you would do something like this. How could you even…”

August gently pressed on Emma’s hands which was grasping the lapels of his jacket. “Emma. Emma, I didn’t know, okay?”

“Yes. Yes, you did. You had to have known because if you didn’t…” Emma hugged her middle with one arm and looked at Henry who smiled at her toothily. “Then what is he doing here?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered and a horrified expression washed over him. “Emma, you had a kid? _When?_ ”

“August!” She practically growled his name and got ahold of his lapels once more. “What the hell is my son doing here?”

“Please, stop yelling,” Henry said and shuffled closer to them and his brown eyes bore into Emma’s green ones. “You gave me up for adoption. My other mom lives here, and she adopted me.”

“That’s impossible,” August said. “No one can get in or out of this place. Well, maybe except for-”

“Who’s your mom?” Emma asked.

The boy grimaced and looked at his feet. “She’s not all bad. She loves me, I’m pretty sure.”

“Who’s your mom, kid?” asked August forcefully.

Henry scuffed the toe of his converse on the asphalt and said, “The mayor.”

* * *

“I’m taking him back to his mother!” shouted Emma as she burst open the cabin door, Henry and August following behind her. She whirled around, hands on her hips and shuddered internally when her gaze landed on the boy.

This. Shit. Wasn't. Happening.

“You _are_ his mother!” August argued. “You can’t take him back to that woman. She’s the Evil Queen.”

“We kidnapped a child, August!”

“I wanted to come. Do you have any juice?” piped Henry and shuffled to the kitchen, setting his book down and opening the fridge. “Ah, man. I guess water's fine.”

Emma cupped her head, shaking it. “I’m taking him home. I don’t care what you say.”

“Can we at least catchup first?” Henry asked as he climbed up on the counter and opened one of the cupboards. He pulled out a glass and hopped back down onto the floor. He carefully poured himself some filtered water and then plopped down on one of the chairs, opening his book. “You probably wanna know stuff.”

“Maybe another time, kid,” Emma said while marching towards him. “When I have permission from your mom to talk to you.”

“Don’t take me back yet. Please,” he begged and all she could see was Neal. Henry’s eyes, his messy hair, his ears. So much of Neal, it twisted her insides.

“I have to. I shouldn’t have taken you to begin with. I did a very bad thing,” she told him and rested her hands on the table.

“But you found me,” he said, using the same words he had earlier. “You didn’t know I was here. It was destiny.”

Exhaling sharply, she took the remaining seat and scooted closer but not too close to him. The kid was six years old and talking about things he couldn’t understand. “There’s no such thing. It was a coincidence. That’s all.”

Emma only half-believed herself. Had she not just drank from that _magical_ well two hours before? The water was supposed to return something that she lost, and the boy she gave birth to in jail was sitting right in front of her nowhere close to Phoenix, Arizona but only a few hours north from her on the I-95.

“No, it’s real. I knew it when I found your name on the computer. You’re in my book.”

Emma flicked her focus on Henry’s open book. “Sure, I am."

August came up beside them and touched an illustrated page. “May I?” he asked Henry.

Henry bobbed his head, and August took the book and went back into the main room. The kid then asked in a poorly concealed whisper, “Is he my dad?”

Emma chuckled mirthlessly. “No. August is…I don’t know what he is, actually. A pain in my ass is more accurate.”

“But I have a dad.” 

She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded.

“What’s he like?”

“Emma?” August came back into the kitchen, and she was relieved to have avoided in giving any details to Henry about Neal. Apparently at six, this kid was a wiz at the computer and was able to find her information, no problem. If she gave Henry a name, God knows what he could dig up and find.

“Mmm?”

“You need to read this. I only flipped through it, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Henry,” he knelt down and looked the boy in the eye, “where did you get this book? Did the mayor, give it to you?”

Henry shook his head. “Miss Blanchard gave it to me.”

“Snow White gave you the book?”

“Yeah!” The boy’s face lit up and bounced on his seat.

“And where did she get it?”

“She said she found it in her closet. I think magic brought it to her.”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough.” Emma got up from her seat and yanked her car keys out of her jean pockets, dangling them. “I’m taking you home.”

August shoved the book towards her chest and she took it from him, only to hand it off to Henry. He pouted at her and cuddled the huge tome close to his chest and slid of his seat, toddling to the main room.

“It’s all in there,” August said, gesturing with his arm. “Everything. Read it and you'll believe.”

Emma glowered at him. “Stay here. I’m taking him to his mother to _whom_  I will lie my ass off about everything that brought us to this point and hope she doesn’t have me arrested.”

“The whole point was to not have her notice you! Now you’re just going to go and introduce yourself!” he shouted after her.

She ignored him and escorted Henry out of the cabin and to her car. With Henry in the passenger seat, she started the Bug and drove to the main road and made a left. She got on Main Street and took it all the way down as per instruction by the kid next to her and then made another left, coming to a nice, extravagant home where an older police cruiser was parked in front next to an Mercedes from the same year. Henry got out of the car and ran up the walkway to the front door while Emma took her time, wanting to get a good look at this _mayor_ who adopted the baby she gave birth to.

Before the kid even made it halfway to the house, the front door burst open and an attractive and smartly dressed woman came rushing out to embrace him. The woman hugged him tightly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. A man, assumingly the sheriff, exited the house and stood from afar to give the boy and his mother some space.

Emma got out of the car, drawing attention to herself when shutting the door. Henry’s adoptive mother stared at her in shock and then her dark eyes narrowed in distrust.

“Who are you?” the woman asked coldly, releasing her son.

Before Emma could get a word in, Henry exclaimed, “She’s my birth mom, and she found me!”

Well, shit!

“It’s not like that,” Emma rushed out, shaking her head and the sheriff began closing in.

Emma remembered August telling her this woman’s name was Regina Mills, and Regina Mills folded her arms and shot her an incredulous look. “And what is it like, Miss…”

“Swan. Emma Swan. I got a letter from Henry a few days ago.”

“So you came and kidnapped him?”

“I wanted to go with her!” Henry said and Regina looked like someone kicked her in the stomach, and Emma winced. Henry seemed to have no idea what he'd just said.

“Go inside, Henry,” Regina said quietly, waving her hand at him. “I need to talk to Miss Swan.”

“She wasn’t going to take me.”

“ _Henry!_ ”

The boy’s features pinched unpleasantly, and he sprinted inside the house. Regina turned to face her. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you arrested.”

Emma showed the woman her palms. “He wanted to see me,” she said truthfully and then continued with another lie. “And I had no intention of taking him. He told me to meet him by the clock tower and…”

“And what, Miss Swan?”

“Does it matter? You want to arrest me? Fine, but I have no intention of taking Henry away from you. I promise you that."

Regina stepped into Emma’s space and sneered. “Do you know what a closed adoption is? It’s what you asked for when you gave him up. Now I suggest you get into your car and leave Storybrooke before my forgiving mood goes away, and I press charges. Sheriff Graham,” she said to the man a few feet away from them, “escort Miss Swan back to her car and _off_ my property.”

“Will do, Madam Mayor,” he said, tipping his head at her as she briskly walked by him and into her house, slamming the door shut.

Emma raised a hand at the man and started walking towards her car. “I can see myself off, thanks.”

“Regina can be complicated. I apologize.”

Surprised, Emma glanced back at him and chuckled. “You’re apologizing on the mayor’s behalf even though any normal person would’ve had me arrested. You should know I got off lucky.”

When she got to her car door, Graham offered a hand. “Let me properly introduce myself. Sheriff Graham Humbert.”

He did realize that she kidnapped a child, right? Nevertheless, Emma took his hand and gave him a tired half smile. “Emma Swan,” she replied.

“So you’re Henry’s birth mother.”

“…yes…”

“He’s a good lad. Really smoothed Regina’s feathers when she adopted him.”

“Her feathers looked pretty ruffled to me.”

“In comparison, I mean.”

The way Graham stared at her, eyes drilling into her like he wanted her to stay a little longer and get to know her, made Emma feel both irritated and a tiny bit flattered. He was handsome.

Very handsome.

But she was Emma Swan and she only caved into a handsome man’s advances if there was no promise of tomorrow, and this guy had a tomorrow kind of feel to him. Definitely a gentleman. He wouldn’t make her breakfast or even prepare her a Pop Tart but would take her out, let her order everything off the menu, and watch her eat every bite.

“Um, that’s good, I guess.” Emma opened her car door and gave Graham a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“If you’re still in town this evening, Miss Swan, I’m at Granny’s Diner at eight o’ clock for my break.”

Sort of endeared by his attempt to ask her out, she said, “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodbye.”

* * *

The sun was already disappear behind a thick, cluster of storm clouds, and the sky began to darken even though there was plenty of hours left in the day. When she came to the outskirts of Storyrbooke to get to the road leading back to the cabin, she had to turn on her headlights.

Her mind began to race because, holy shit, she just met her son. Her son was here in a un-Google-able place living with a woman that made Emma’s prickly personality seem like a fleece blanket.

She should’ve asked the woman if she really loved Henry. That’s what Emma had wanted when she gave the kid up for adoption. She wanted him to have his best chance, and she knew it wasn’t going to be with her but with someone who could provide a promising future for him. She had just gotten out of jail and had no money to her name and was no longer qualified to get into Hampton University. Her future was shot to hell, so how could she give a good one to a child?

Emma’s eyes drifted to the passenger seat where Henry had sat not too long before and clicked her tongue in dismay when seeing Henry’s book. “Sneaky bastard.”

She skimmed the title, seeing it for the first time and arched a brow. _Once Upon a Time_? Really? She was either going to have to turn around and give it back to him or track him down later which wouldn’t be a good idea. Best to get it over with.

Emma lifted her eyes to the road and noticed too late that she’d drifted to the side where a man was walking. He turned around and jumped back to avoid getting hit, falling into the ditch. Emma slammed on her brakes and got out of the car, jogging towards him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”

He slowly stood up and paused as it assess himself and then said, “Uh, I think so.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned. God, this was the second time today she nearly hit someone. What was her problem?

This town! This goddamn town was her problem. She needed to get out of it and _fast_.

I’m fine,” the man said. “I’m not used to sharing the road with cars out here. This road isn’t often used.”

Emma nodded and folded her arms, taking in the man’s appearance. He was well-dressed and groomed with a modern, chic hairstyle. What was a guy dressed like him doing all the way out here? A walk, probably, but he certainly wasn’t dressed for one.

“I don’t believe I recognize you. Are you new in town?”

Emma bobbed her head from side to side. “I don’t know yet. I’m just—you know—browsing the joint. It’s very…green.”

“So you’re out in the middle of nowhere looking for property to purchase? Good luck. Mr. Gold only does business with possible tenants, not buyers.”

“Good to know. Look, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’ll just be on my way. It was pleasant meeting you.”

“You, as well.”

The man began to walk, hobbling with each step and she winced guiltily, saying, “You _are_ hurt.”

“No, I just twisted my ankle, I think. I live just a mile down the road. I’ll make it okay.”

Emma joined him in the ditch and offered a sincere, apologetic grimace. “No, let me drive you. I insist.”

The man regarded her with a small, relieved smile. “Thank you. I’m Jefferson.”

“Emma.”

* * *

**Misthaven**

With the day drawing to a close, Hook left the ramshackle hut where he did his blacksmith work. Earlier that morning, he had assisted Cora in retrieving Lancelot’s heart in the man’s shack whilst the rest of the community laid in their straw beds for the night. Hook had felt a tad guilty, but the ends justified the means. Cora insisted she felt the curse weakening already and sooner than she anticipated, they would be able to breech more of the Enchanted Forest. She spoke of a beanstalk and a giant who may have a golden compass that could direct them to her daughter when the time came.

_“If it directs me to Regina, Rumpelstiltskin won’t be far.”_

The way they were supposed to cross realms still resided in the air, but Cora hoped there was a magic bean to spare when they fetched the golden compass.

Hook returned to his shack for a spare change of threads and a bar of soap and then travelled towards the shore. He needed a wash and yearned for fresh water to bathe instead of to merely drink. Luxuries such as fresh water were difficult to come by in the community, every drop going towards hydration, harvesting, and laundry. The Enchanted Forest no longer had seasons and was forever stuck in early autumn. The days could be cool if there was rain, but there could also be days of uncomfortable warmth. He supposed he should be grateful for the variety, albeit sparse that it was.

There was a river two miles away he resorted to on occasion when the shorelines were populated with other bathers and the uncleanliness of his work and the days became unbearable. He fancied cleanliness because a lady preferred a nice smelling man to lay with and press up against in the wee hours of the night.

After his quick salty and soapy wash in the ocean, he dressed into his clean clothes and travelled back to his shack and wished for some rum and woman. There were barrels of his chosen drink left on the _Roger_ , but he’d intentionally anchored her as far away as possible while Cora had cast cloaking spell upon it. Bleedin’ Christ, he missed his bed and the comforts of his cabin. The only thing worth staying in this barren piece of land was the women. He didn’t have any gallivanting about on the ship.

Easily, he could swagger down to Enyha’s shack and watch her and her sister’s fight until the brink of death, so the winner could keep him company for the night. Strangely, he wasn’t in the mood to watch those delectable tarts have at each other in hopes of spending a rather pleasurable evening and morning with him. Yet, he still wanted a companion to warm his bed.

Hook found himself retiring to bed alone and slipped beneath the covers, and he stared at the empty space beside him like a lonely, old codger and thought of Emma in his dream the night before. She had been exquisitely naked and womanly, her breasts fuller and hips more rounded than he remembered. The fanciful images lulled him into a deep slumber but unfortunately did not morph into another enticing reverie. However, her presence remained, and he saw her running through a jungle. Through Neverland. She wore the clothes he last saw her in, the black trousers and Milah's leather tunic. Alas, Emma was older and seemed to be earnestly search for something. Soundless words tumbled out her lips, and she paid him no mind when he reached out to her, calling her by name.

Finally, she stopped running and stared directly at him, panting for breath. “Help me, Killian,” she said and the dream shifted, the scenery dissolving and shaping into his quarters in the _Jolly Roger_. On his bed was Emma, dressed and aged the same from the previous frantic scene. She appeared to be asleep, resting fitfully on her back, head slightly turned outward, facing him. Entranced by the sight of her serenity, he watched her breasts rise and fall, completely captivated by her beauty. Because of this, he failed to react in time when Cora entered the scene. She hovered over Emma for only a second before plunging her hand into the younger’s chest and yanking out her heart. Emma’s eyes flew open, and she screamed in pain.

“No!” he yelled and tried to move but found himself immobile.

Cora examined the brightly shining heart, pursing her lips and extending it to someone else in the room. Hook locked eyes with Pan who smirked viciously at him, his features never wavering, not even when taking Emma’s heart from Cora. Pan then looked at the heart, studying it intently.

“Mmm, pity,” the demonic boy said and tightened his hold on the heart. Hook could do nothing as the organ crumpled to dust and rain down on the floor. Emma’s eyes fluttered shut, and one of her hands lay limply over her chest while her other arm sagged off the side of the mattress, and he witnessed the last rise and fall of her chest.

Hook bolted up in his bed, his body drenched in sweat. He lifted his hand close to his face and watched his fingers tremble briefly before wiping at his soaked features.

“Shite,” he muttered and patted his chest in a poor attempt to calm his wildly beating heart. It had only been a dream. A strange and malignant dream, yes, but a dream, nonetheless.

“You’re all right, Swan,” he whispered to himself, leaning back onto his bed and taking in a deep, calming breath. “You’re all right wherever you are.”


	15. Chapter 15

Rain drizzled quietly outside the cabin, the comforting sound failing to lull Emma into a much needed deep sleep. She laid snuggled under several layers of blankets, curled on one side, and stared out the window. Her focus drifted to the long empty porcelain mug on the bedside table, disappointed the strong, citrusy tea failed to soothe her rough, aching throat. For the majority of the night, she had sat at Jefferson's craft table reading aloud the intertwined fairytales of Henry's book. Her eyes fluttered shut, still feeling the muzzle of the man's gun stroking the skin of her upper arm.

Emma recalled the last thought crossing her mind right before she passed out from his drugged tea.

Why?

It was a genuinely fair question. Why in the hell had this man drugged her? He didn't know her. She'd been in town for less than twenty-four hours. How could she have possibly made an enemy already?

Reflecting on her decision to ensure Jefferson returned home safely, Emma now knew she should've just let him walk after nearly hitting him. If not that, then leaving him to his lonesome when dropping him off at his estate. She had pretty much invited herself inside, presently unsure as to why. It had nothing to do with his physical appearance but more like an opportunity to actually have a conversation with someone from Storybrooke aside from the rather forward Sheriff Graham and Henry's adoptive mother.

Jefferson hadn't been the least bit put off by her self-invitation and even offered to prepare tea and show her some of his amateur cartography work to help her get a better idea of where she'd like to buy property. He had been friendly not _interested_ which suited Emma fine but when she began to feel hazy and unbalanced from the tea, she came to know her judgment may have been too hasty. However long later, she woke up bound and gagged. After managing out of her bindings, she went in search of way out of the house and spied Jefferson inside another room reading Henry's book. A part of her wanted to burst in and snatch it from him, but the logical part of her said it was just a book, probably full of flimflam fairytales every person knew well.

Leaving Jefferson with her son's book, Emma found August gagged and tied to a chair inside a room. When she freed him, he explained how Jefferson broke into the cabin minutes after she left to take Henry back to Regina's. Jefferson had knocked him out with a tranq dart and taken him back to the estate before leaving again to get her.

August had agreed they needed to find a way out of the house before calling the police. Unfortunately, they hadn't gone far before Jefferson appeared and forced Emma to rebind August. At gunpoint, he then led her to a crafts room where Henry's book was open to the first page. The book was on a craft table next to a few unfinished hats. In fact, hats of all styles and hues decorated the room, and she spared him a concerned glance. He ignored her judging stare and promptly instructed to sit at the table and read.

 _"Out loud, Emma,"_ he had said when she read the first line to herself.

As she spoke twisted, unfamiliar versions of Snow White, Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Red Riding Hood, and the Mad Hatter; Emma found difficulty in following the storyline. Not only had Jefferson hovered over her, even whispering words of encouragement into her ear and making her goddamned terrified that he planned on raping her in the near future, the initial story seemed to start somewhere towards the end at the wedding of Snow White and Prince Charming. Flashbacks bombarded the pages as did gaudy illustrations of characters and scenery. About two-thirds from the end, however, she began to pay closer attention. Her tongue stumbled over a character's name, the Dark One. Jefferson mistook her fumble and hesitation for exhaustion and reminded her she was almost done.

The Dark One had not been mentioned previous to the story of Cinderella but perhaps alluded to if Emma went back and carefully reread, starting from the beginning. After his capture, he was only mentioned again once more and briefly when Snow White and Prince Charming sought his counsel concerning the Evil Queen's threat to destroy their happiness. In exchange for information, he requested the name of their unborn child.

 _"Emma,_ _"_  Snow White replied. _"Her name is Emma."_

Jefferson must've sensed her intent to jump up and run because the moment her own name left her lips, he had rested his chin on head and creepily squeezed one arm while his gun caressed her other. Suppressing a shudder, she read until the end when Prince Charming fought off Black Knights to ensure his daughter to the magical wardrobe where she would be transported to another land. Twenty-eight years later, she would become the savior and break the Evil Queen's curse, restoring all the happy endings to everyone.

The last illustration of the book depicted Prince Charming holding his daughter, the baby wrapped in a knitted blanket with her name woven into the material. Emma had thumbed the cursive letters, unable to comprehend what she read or even given enough time to before Jefferson slammed the book shut.

 _"You made the clock on the clock tower start working,"_ he had said. _"You came to a place where nothing ever changes. You even brought Pinocchio along for the ride. At first, I thought you had magic, but you're so much more, aren't you, Emma? You're this savior the book speaks of."_   She stayed in her seat as he backed away behind her, but she could sense the muzzle of the gun pointed at the back of her skull. _"Break it. Break it or I end it. I have a feeling if I kill you, the curse is null and void."_

 _"You're insane!"_ she had said, her eyes landing on a pair of large scissors a few inches from the book. Emma grabbed the shears and flung them blindly over her shoulder, hoping to create a distraction but instead piercing Jefferson in the shoulder. She dropped to the floor as he fired a shot in her general direction and was able to kick his feet out from under him. She noticed a telescope by the window, not unlike the one in the other room that was pointed at the turnoff leading to hers and August's cabin. Thinking fast, she grabbed it and whacked Jefferson hard across the face. The moment he dropped, she sprinted back to August, unbinding him from the chair just in time for both of them to fight off Jefferson. Emma had been flattened to the ground with him on top of her, and she took notice of the garish scar on his neck behind his scarf. She was only able to study it for a moment before August yanked him off her.

Scrambling to her feet, Emma was able to land a well-placed kick to Jefferson's chest. He stumbled backwards, hitting the window. The glass gave from the force, and he fell. She and August rushed to look out and see if there was a chance he survived, but both were alarmed to see the ground beneath vacant with the exception of broken glass.

They hadn't called the police but dove into Emma's Bug which they found tarp-covered and parked by the garage. They sped to the cabin, and August poured himself onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, mumbling a promise to speak later. Emma on the other hand, couldn't sleep a wink despite her utter lack of sleep the entire night. She laid there, for hours and hours. Maybe she did drift off here and there but had startled awake at simple but foreign sounds an old cabin in the middle of storm could only make.

A little after two o' clock, Emma spared August's sleeping form a glance before walking out the front door and to her car. Inside, she glanced down at Henry’s book on the passenger seat and thought of the heinous scar on Jefferson’s neck. Her heart began to beat faster. As to not wasting another minute, she started the Bug and drove to Storybrooke Elementary, passing the working clock tower on the way. She got there right when children started filtering out of the building and towards the two buses. She spotted Henry immediately, his backpack bigger than life. She parked a ways from the school and walked over to him as he stood in line to get on his bus.

“Henry,” she rasped and then cleared her sore throat. "Henry."

His face brightened when seeing her, and he rushed over and wrapped his little arms around her legs. “My mom said you left, but I knew you didn’t."

She stooped down and held him close, cradling the back of his head and inhaled his scent. He smelled of spiced apples, and it made her sick. She pulled away just enough to look at him. “Would you like to come with me?”

The boy gaped and then nodded. “Where? Oh, I know. We can go get grilled cheeses and hot chocolate at Granny's, and then we can go to my castle and have a picnic. ”

Emma smoothed over his cow lick he inherited form Neal and smiled tightly. “Okay.”

“Snow White’s here. Do you want to see her?” he asked, his little hand grabbing on to hers.

“Not today.” She led him across the street to her car. He catapulted into the passenger seat, and she drove them into town where he excitedly pointed out all the places he wanted to show her. By the time they got to the outskirts, that enthusiasm faded, especially when he noticed her sparse luggage in the backseat.

“Mom?” he said, troubled.

“We’re leaving,” she confessed, pressing on the gas.

“What? Why?”

“Because, Henry!” she snapped hoarsely. “This is not what I wanted for you! When I gave you up, you were supposed to be safe!”

“I am safe!” he said indigently.

She shook her head. “No, you’re not. Storybrooke isn’t safe. It’s cursed, and I can’t leave you with that woman who raised you. I can’t let you be anywhere near her. She can hurt you.”

“She won't, I swear. I know she’s done bad things, but she’s my mom. You’re the savior, though. You’re supposed to break the curse. The book says so, and it’s not broken yet. You can't leave. Not yet.”

“I am.”

His bottom lip quivered, eyes glassy. “But what about Snow White and Prince Charming? They’re your mom and dad.”

Oh, yes. How could she forget the people who shipped her off to this mess of a world to fix their problems. “I don’t care about them. I care about you. You're my kid.”

He hugged _Once Upon a Time_ as if it could comfort him . “Mom, _please_. You’re not supposed to be like my other mom. You’re supposed to be good. You came from True Love.”

Emma pulled over to the side of the road right before the _Welcome to Storybrooke_ sign. She shifted in her seat and faced him. “I was told all I had to do was believe and the curse would break, but it hasn’t. I’m not going to stick around and wait for it to happen. Not when you’re here and living with Regina. You read the book and know what she’s capable of. What she did to this town is unacceptable.”

“Fix it, then.”

“I can't! This is not the first time I’ve dealt which something like this, and it’s too powerful. The only thing I know how to do is run, and it's going to keep you safe and away from Regina.”

“But I don’t want to be away from her.”

“Henry.” Emma cupped his face, sighing. For the first time, she regretted giving him up for adoption. God, if she had kept him, though, he wouldn’t have had a good life. Not at first. But maybe she could’ve built one. For him, she would’ve tried. “I know she’s your mom, but I would be crazy to let you go back to her.”

“We can talk to her. What if she feels bad and wants to do good things, but the curse won’t let her?”

“I don’t think so, kid."

Henry’s features pinched stubbornly. “She can leave, you know? She’ll come after us. She won’t be happy.”

“I’m not concerned about her happiness. I’m worried about yours.”

He leaned out of her touch and said, “I won’t be if you take me away, but I will be if you stay and break the curse.”

Emma flinched. She wanted to say something along the lines of how he’d understand when he got older, but the look on his face silenced her. Clenching the steering wheel and inwardly groaning, she weighed her options. It would be so easy to start the car up, shift it into gear, and be in Boston in a matter of hours. From there, anywhere. Someplace Regina couldn’t find them.

She began planning their escape to some faraway place, even when she turned the Bug around and headed back. She stopped at Granny’s diner and when Henry hopped out of the car, he grinned proudly and said, “I knew you’d do the right thing.” He bounded into the restaurant and beckoned her to hurry.

Inside, an attractive young woman instantly zeroed in on the boy and said, "Hey, your mom's looking for you." She craned her neck and called towards the kitchen area, "Granny, call the mayor and tell her Henry's here."

Henry threw himself into a booth, spreading himself out and saying, "I'm okay. The usual, please. Make it two, actually."

Emma pulled her wallet out other jeans and slipped him a ten dollar bill for his order. She gave the waitress a glance and said, “Just one."

“You're not staying?” he said, crestfallen.

Emma bent over and stated firmly but quietly, "There's a chance I'll leave town, Henry. You’re coming with me if that happens.”

Nonplused and with a casual roll of his shoulders, he said nothing until the waitress served him a fresh cup of hot chocolate with cream and cinnamon. He bid the woman a thanks and knowingly grinned at Emma. Bemused, she stared at him grumpily before going up to the counter and tossing the waitress a forced smile.

"Henry's your friend?" she asked.

“Something like that” Emma replied, eyes scanning the alcoholic beverages on the menu but decided against ordering one. She had more pressing matters to attend to like pretending to break a curse for the sake of August and her kid.

A twinge of guilt went through her when thinking of August, but she pushed it away. She needed to think of Henry first and foremost. Not a...not a puppet.

“What can get I get you?”

Leaning against the counter, Emma asked in a hushed tone, “Would you happen to know a lawyer in town? A _good_ lawyer?”

The waitress, Ruby according to her nametag, arched a perfectly manicured brow and smiled, intrigued. “Mr. Gold. His pawn shop is around the corner, down the street, and to the left. You might be able to catch him. His hours are funky, and he sometimes closes for no reason. I could give you his phone number, but he won’t answer. He also doesn’t like visitors at his house, so good luck trapping him.”

“Thanks. Can I borrow this?” Emma snatched a pen by the register and went back to Henry, writing her cellphone number down on a napkin. "This is for you. Don’t show Regina, okay? Another thing, I need you to keep all this a secret. What happened today and about your book and what you know of this town. You can’t let anybody know, especially her.”

Henry’s eyes bulged over the rim of his hot chocolate mug. He put it down, whipped cream on his upper lip and nose. “We should have a codename.”

“Think of one. Make it awesome.”

“Meet me tomorrow at my castle after school. There's a trail in the back that leads to the beach. You'll find it."

"We'll see, okay?" Emma tried to smile and then left Granny's, getting into her car and following Ruby's directions to Mr. Gold's shop. Before going inside, she checked her phone and saw ten missed calls from August. She sent him a quick text saying that she was fine and to leave her alone. She'd be back at the cabin in a little while.

Mr. Gold’s shop had a rather impressive assortment of trinkets. Inside one of the cases, a pristinely polished cutlass caught her attention, and she studied the curvature of the blade and the rustic whorls on the handle. At the base of the blade, there was a faded etching of a design resembling a shapely, female figure with several tentacles. 

“What every woman needs,” an accented voice spoke from behind her. From the back of the store entered a slight, middle-aged man. His hair was shoulder-length and dark, wisps of grey sprouting from his temple. He was dressed smartly and had a cane to help support his apparent lame leg.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“A cutlass." His eyes narrowed speculatively. “I don’t believe I’ve seen or met you before. Are you new in town?”

“Looks like,” she said and drummed her fingers on the glass case. “I hear you’re an attorney.”

“I moonlight on occasion, indeed.” Like Ruby, he quirked his brow in curiosity. “Why does a lovely young woman such as yourself need an attorney?”

“I gave a child up for adoption several years ago. I want to sue for custody to get him back.”

He smiled quizzically. “Perhaps I can be of some service when I know more of the details.” He extended his hand. "Mr. Robert Gold.”

“Emma Swan.” She took his hand, shaking it. 

* * *

Emma needed to be away from August for a while. She never returned to the cabin, calling him after her brief discussion with Gold to tell him she wasn't staying at the cabin anymore. They scuffled for a few minutes until she said he couldn't changed her mind and had plans to rent a room at Granny's until she found a more suitable place. He disliked being out in the open, fearing for her safety. He repeatedly voiced his concern, reminding her that Regina wasn't an idiot and would catch on eventually.

Emma didn't tell August about her meeting with an attorney. He'd discourage her going after Regina in such a direct way, but he didn't understand she wasn't afraid of her. The woman may have power as the mayor in this town, but none of it was real. It was a crazy person's fantasy land. Emma would play by the cute, societal rules up to a point, but if Gold couldn't win her case, she would be more than happy and ready to put this town in her rear view mirror, Henry by her side. So what if Regina could leave the town? Yes, somehow she secured a kid in 2005, but her credentials were fake as hell. If Emma had the power to fight for custody on her own territory such as Boston, she could dig up those bull shit records and present them in court. Unfortunately, that wouldn't fly here in Storybrooke.

The next morning Emma had an appointment with Mr. Gold at an upscale coffee shop. There, she further explained her case, and at first Gold seemed delighted to do anything to cause harm to the mayor. Nevertheless, he gave her a viciously honest overview of how incompetent her lifestyle was and no judge in their right mind would rule in favor of her despite being Henry’s biological mother.

“Regina will bring to court every colorful fact from your past which, unfortunately, you can’t change. You can, however, improve your present situation. As charming as the inn is, I suggest you look into an apartment. I have some available, and you might also want to consider finding local employment. As charming as a bail bondsperson sounds, I’m afraid our quaint town isn't in need of one.” Mr. Gold scribbled down a few notes down on his pad and then tapped the end of it thoughtfully. “Tell me about the boy’s father.”

“I did.”

“Yes, you took the fall for his misdeed. What I’d like to know is if you have any contact with him? Is there a chance he’s going to be lurking about in the boy’s life?”

Emma frowned and shook her head. “Of course not. I haven’t spoken to him in years. I’m not even sure where he is. He doesn’t even know about Henry and never will.”

“Ah, well, then I must ask if there’s any chance the boy’s father will come looking for _you_.”

“He hasn’t yet. I can’t imagine why he would now or in the future.”

“So you’re certain he won’t?”

No, she wasn’t actually.

“Yes,” she said.

“I hope you can lie better by the first hearing, Miss Swan.”

“I don’t plan on lying.”

Mr. Gold’s face turned patronizing. “Of course you don’t.” He flipped to a fresh sheet of paper on his pad and wrote something down before tearing it off and handing it to her. “An apartment complex. It’s across the street from the clock tower. Oh, and funny thing. That clock has been broken as long as I can remember. Just yesterday it started working.”

Emma said nothing, pocketing the note and finishing off her dainty teacup of expensive coffee. When she pulled out her wallet to pay for it, Gold graciously told her he’d cover the tab and instructed her to contact him if she chose to rent the apartment he offered. He handed her a key and she thanked him before driving over to the building, parking beside a hideous Jeep Grand Wagoneer.

Inside the complex, the apartment was bare and clean and unfortunately unfurnished with the exception of a refrigerator and rickety, old dining table. She preferred furnished housing, hating to put so much money into something she couldn’t take with her if wanting to leave on the fly. Maybe she’d go in search for some of those tacky, inflatable chairs that were so popular when she was a teenager. Or maybe beanbags and those cushy lovesacs.

Her train of thought was interrupted when her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her pocket and saw that it was August. She put him straight to voicemail and sent him a text saying she’d be back at the inn soon. She stole a few more moments to get the vibe of the place and then walked to Gold’s shop where she signed a six-month lease and handed over the deposit.

Living simply, cheaply, and being exceptional at her job secured Emma financially. Her savings and checking accounts were both at a place where she could afford to pay Mr. Gold as a solicitor and as a landlord for a while. Still, it was smart to have a job, and extra cash-flow never hurt anyone. She was going to need to prove she could provide and care for Henry.

She wrung her fingers in anticipation when walking towards Granny’s. She couldn’t wait to see him again. She knew he wanted to see her later that day and maybe she could break the rule Gold gave her just this one time. He'd said paying visits to him without permission from Regina was out of the question. Emma knew keeping to that was important, but Henry would have to know what she was planning. She couldn’t keep this from him, only to find out through Regina.

Emma saw August in the diner. He was in a booth chatting up Ruby, telling her tales of white, sandy beaches and clear, blue waters. The young woman sighed dreamily and said, “When I get out of this town, I swear.”

Sliding into the opposite seat, she smiled at the girl and said, “Hot chocolate, please, with cinnamon.”

“No problem.”

When she was out of earshot, Emma confessed to August, “I rented an apartment just down the street. It’s a two bedroom, and you’re not invited.”

August bristled, his hand tightening around his mug of coffee. “You saw Mr. Gold?”

Emma’s phone buzzed and held up a finger at August. He tossed a frustrated glare at her, but she ignored it, fishing her cellphone out and seeing it was her boss in Boston. “I have to take this,” she said and walked out of the restaurant. She fed the man some truths and lies, ultimately telling him she was in the middle of moving out of the city and would no longer be able to work for the agency.

Emma caught sight of Graham’s cruiser pulling up in front of the diner. He made way to the entrance and slowed when noticing her. He didn’t go inside the restaurant, so she waved. He tossed her a 'we need to talk' look, making her frown and hurriedly ending her conversation with her former boss.

“Yes?” she said to Graham, pocketing her phone.

“Henry wasn't on the school bus yesterday afternoon but was spotted with a blonde woman here yesterday. Would you care to explain?”

“You’re going to have to ask Henry about that.”

“Both Regina and I took turns. He swears he didn’t get on the bus because he had a chronic craving for cherry vanilla ice cream, and you happened to spot him making his merry way towards Any Given Sundae. He claims you questioned him and then offered to take him to Granny’s so he could call his mother to pick him up.”

Emma was both deeply disturbed and strangely proud of her son’s dishonest yet conceivable tale. It was very believable, and she grinned despite herself. “That’s exactly what happened. I would’ve stuck around, but I assumed Regina wouldn’t want to see me.”

“You’re not wrong, but I must ask why you’re still here. I thought you returned to Boston the other night.”

“I’m planning on staying for a little while. It’s a nice town and a good change from the hustle and bustle of the city.”

“And Henry’s here.” He stared at her knowingly. “I find myself relieved you’re choosing to stay. Have you looked into housing, yet?”

Sheriff Graham was so obvious, it was nearly painful, and Emma found herself somewhat flattered by his cute, tiny crush. “I’m moving into the complex down the street.”

“You’ll be neighbors with Miss Mary Margaret. She’s very polite.”

"Mary Margaret," Emma repeated, frowning.

“She sometimes brings a basket of produce by the station to make sure I don’t give myself a heart attack from all the coffee and pastries I consume.”

Emma chuckled softly, the cogs reeling within. Her newly employed attorney just happened to refer her to the same apartment where her mother resided. Reflecting back, it was rather strange he suggested an apartment instead of a house, given the circumstances.

Mentally scoffing, she brushed off her paranoid thinking. Gold referred her the apartment because it was a nice, unassuming place in a prime location. He couldn't possibly know he had Snow White as a tenant nor Snow White's daughter. He was cursed like the rest of this town.

“Storybrooke would be out of luck if that happened since I take it you’re the only officer on duty,” she said.

“It’s within my budget to hire a deputy, but this town isn’t known for nefarious, criminal activity. I mostly deal with misdemeanors and teenagers. Honestly, though, the station’s records are in disarray thanks to my impeccable filing skills. I may just hire a deputy for the sake of tidying up the mess I’ve created.”

Emma folded her arms and regarded him pensively. "Is that so?"

A few minutes later, she and Graham walked into Granny’s, and Emma returned to the table but didn’t sit. She laid a five dollar bill on the table, drank half of her now lukewarm hot chocolate and said to August, “I’ve got to go.”

“We need to talk about-”

“Later.” She went to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.

“The curse, Emma, or have you forgotten?”

“Do you have any bright ideas? Didn’t think so. I’ll see you later, like, tonight or something. We can talk then." She shirked his grip and followed Graham out the door to his car.

Graham gave her a ride to the station where she filled out some paperwork at the deputy’s desk as he rifled through his office. When he came out, he was holding a police uniform. She leaned back in the chair and said, “A tie? You know you don’t have to dress a woman as a man to give her authority.”

Amused, he replied, “So you think you can get people to do what you want in that red coat?”

“I’m getting you to do what I want right now,” she said wryly.

Graham held out his hand, presenting a badge. “Well, at least wear this. If you really want to be a part of the community, we have to make it official.”

Taking the badge, Emma stood and clipped it on her belt, lurching when the ground beneath her feet quaked and the wall of the station shook. Seconds later, the station’s phones started to ring.

* * *

Hook released his death grip on his work table and removed the hot steel from the fire. "What the bloody hell was that?" Wiping his hand on a cloth, he charged outside, leaving his fallen and scattered tools on the floor. Many from the community were clustered in a circle muttering or yelling at each other, arguing about what caused that shake. He scanned the area wondering what could’ve caused that shake. Some of the huts, including his own, were a bit worse for wear and needed tending to. Lancelot, or more accurately Cora’s current mouth piece, marched out of his shack and silenced the community with a simple gesture. The crowd quieted and looked upon him for answers.

“My good people, everything is fine. It was not an ogre or even the ground’s insistence to move. I believe the Evil Queen’s curse wanes, and time is now moving like before. This is not a time a fear but a time of rejoicing, for our children will grow and our posterity and land will once again flourish in due time. We shall thank the heavens that our troubles are finally coming to a close.”

As the community murmured excitedly amongst themselves, Hook remained silent and soon shuffled back to his work. When the ruckus outside died down, Lancelot expectedly paid him a visit. At first, the hijacked bloke said nothing, and Hook kept to himself whilst polishing a newly constructed sword. It was a fine piece if he did say so himself. He could perhaps sell it to the baker in exchange for a fortnight's worth of goods.

Hook carefully analyzed the design etched into the base of the blade. It had been a last minute decision in placing one, knowing it could either increase or decrease in trading value. Alas, at seeing how exquisite of his workmanship of the swan turned out, he knew he couldn't part with it. No, this weapon he'd keep. It'd be his second choice of defense, next to his sword, whenever again in battle. Perhaps he'd wield this blade instead of his hook into the Dark One's body and allow the monster's blood a symbol of renewal, a baptism for Hook. In the wake of the Dark One's death, Hook could start fresh.

Thumbing the swan, Hook pondered the lass who plagued his dreams the last two nights.

Swan most likely wasn't her surname anymore, but it suited her perfectly, hadn't it? Though she hadn't been elegant or poised, her long neck and milky white skin were rather enchanting. He recalled how the creamy pale flesh blushed beneath his mouth when his resolve broke and could no longer claim himself a gentleman as he ravished her, tasting her most private essence.

Following the unsettling dream of Pan crushing her heart, Hook had eventually tapered off to sleep again, the lass returning but under much more pleasant circumstances. Alas, the setting was the same, aboard the _Roger_ in his quarters. She was even asleep, but her delectable naked form was atop of his. Her head rested on his chest, and that maddening hair was splayed everywhere, tickling his chin and throat and shoulders. He had been enthralled by the sight, his fingers gently combing her tresses, carefully caressing the ends that teased the knobs of her spine. He rubbed those nodules, travelling down to the curve of her derriere covered by his duvet. Unfortunately, he stirred awake before he could dominate the dream.

"You're distracted, Hook," Cora finally spoke, using her puppet's mouth.

Hook slipped the sword into its sheath and wiped his dirtied palm on a cloth. "My patience wears thin, milady. When do we leave?"

"It's true that threads are merely holding the curse together now. We may be able to travel beyond the boundaries of the land. Two are preparing to leave already."  

“You’re allowing them to?”

“I can make do without.” Cora’s vessel circled Hook’s work table and picked up a dagger that greatly mimicked the tattoo on his forearm. “Your days of wishful thinking are winding down, Hook. Tonight I will gather the hearts of many and bid them to go in search for the Golden Compass to cross realms and to ultimately find the Dark One and my daughter."

Hook took the dagger from Cora's grasp and set it aside. The Crocodile’s death, once a shoddy glimmer of hope, was now shining ray of possibility. How much longer before he skewered him? A week? Perhaps two? His vengeance was close, the intoxicating scent damned near unbearable. Again, he asked, "When do we leave?"

"I imagine your rendezvous with dear Rumpelstiltskin will happen in a week's time."

"You still haven't assured me how we're to cross realms."

"As I've said, I do hope the giant at the top has a bean to spare but if not, there may be another way. Tell me, what have the locals told you about this precious savior meant to break the curse?"

"Aside from the exaggerations that the queen Snow White gave birth to a winged-baby made of solid gold? Not much. Rumors and speculation mostly, one of the stranger ones being that she was put inside a tree to avoid the curse, and it sent her someplace."

Cora smiled through Lancelot's teeth. "Exactly. I have reason to believe the rumors are true. The savior was put inside an enchanted tree. It should still be at the castle. I'll send a party up the beanstalk and another to Snow White's castle to fetch what we'll need. If we reach my daughter before the curse breaks, Hook, I do believe you'll have your work cut out for you when dealing with the Dark One. He'll haven't magic or a single memory of you. It'll be almost too easy. So the question I have for you..." she lifted left wrist pointedly, "hook or a sword?"

A brief moment of hesitation ticked by, and Hook replied, "Why not both?"

To be Continued...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes for my readers.  
> Firstly, I apologize for the delay in posting.  
> Secondly, I'm not entirely sure how law enforcement take care of criminal investigations, so if I'm wrong, I'm sorry.  
> Thirdly, I apologize for any errors: grammatical, punctuation-wise, or concerning the characters and show.  
> And fourth, enjoy the chapter. Feel free to let me know your thoughts and such.

**A Week Later...**

**Enchanted Forest**

The parched, withered bean swelled in the palm of Hook's hand. He stood at the edge of the small body of Lake Nostos. When he and Cora first arrived to the clearing of sand, the lake to which she promised was nowhere in sight. She quickly flicked away his doubts with a wave of her hand, her magic carving a hole in the soft, pliable ground and unearthing the enchanted waters that lay beneath.

One of his knees pressed into the sand as he stooped over to bring life back to the stolen legume with the primary assistance from the enchanted waters. He studied the unassuming, translucent thing and found it to his liking. He backed away from the pond and lightly tossed it into the air before catching it. He shot Cora a glance and stowed the bean inside his pouch secured at his hip.

“I’ll be holding onto this.”

Unfazed, Cora smirked. “We’d reach the Dark One faster, Hook, if you tossed it back into the water.”

“I’m not leaving my ship,” he said. “We should leave if we want to make it to shore by nightfall.”

The woman flicked both wrists, and he felt himself travel through time and space within a purple gust of smoke. From one second to another, both of them were on the deck of his ship. “Let us not waste any more time. It would be simpler to leave the ship. I’ll have to use a bit of magic to cloak it from view upon arrival to this magic-less realm. We won’t want to alert the Dark One or anyone else of our arrival before the time is right," she said.

Hook reeled up the anchor and then made way to the helm. He peered at Cora over the wheel as stood on the main deck. “Do you’ve the compass ready?”

Cora pulled the Golden Compass out of her cloak and held it away from her and towards the horizon. Hook set the sails and drifted away from port and further out into the sea, forcing the salty mist of the water to wash over him and make him forget the many who lost their hearts and ultimately their lives back in the community at the crushing hands of Cora. He put aside the faces of the women he bedded and the pitch of their screams. Reflecting on them would only slow his focus and determination.

Once Hook felt that the _Roger_ was at a safe distance away from the coast and the waters ran deep enough for a portal, he extracted the magic bean from his pouch and held it up for Cora to see. She nodded her approval, and he tossed it overboard and turned the wheel away from the billowing portal. He circled it, gradually maneuvering the ship into the swirling waters.

“Hold on tight,” he ordered to Cora while his ship slanted into the vortex. Soon his vessel was encapsulated by the churning, frothy whirlpool, a he strategically navigated through the portal. After what felt like a lifetime, the _Roger_ finally peaked into an opening, and the ship emerged onto calm waters. He pulled a damp handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his soaked face. Three hundred and sixty degrees of sea greeted him but felt his anxiety lessen substantially when Cora pointed her finger. “West.”

The sun indicated the day was approaching the late afternoon, the sun rays warm but the air somewhat chilly. Wherever the bean had taken them was not the warm tropics but a wintrier climate. He was fairly confident there wouldn’t be an iceberg to quarrel with, but he’d keep his eyes trained for any threat that could keep him from finally achieving his vengeance.

As he chased the sun, the morning star lowered and dipped its curved bottom into the watery horizon. The day faded by the minute, and the fog wafted in thickly. The air became wet and colder which seemed to bother Cora more than it did him. She traipsed upon and below deck, every now and then returning to check for land even though he promised to alert her the moment of.

The fog grew even more solidified, and it became impossible to see the stars. He now had the compass and was now directing the ship northwest. He wished to see the stars, hoping the maps of lights would give him comfort, even if he failed to recognize the constellations in this strange realm. He and Cora had been sailing for close to four hours and had yet to see a speck of land. A part of him worried that since they travelled to the land without magic, then perhaps the compass wouldn’t work. Yet, the spindle seemed to move on its own accord.

Hook peered through his spyglass into the foggy barricade in front of him, his breath catching when spotting a yellowish light. Moments later, the fog separated and he found himself staring at a village, the lighting of homes and hovels peculiar and inorganic. The brightest came from a large clock that read twenty minutes past eight o’ clock. Hook lowered his spyglass and called for Cora. She rushed up onto the main deck and smiled brilliantly at the land before them. She pulled out a potion’s bottle filled with a bluish smoke from her cloak and said, “This should be enough to cloak the ship.”

Hook approached closer to the harbor, the blood in his veins thrumming in anticipation. The Crocodile was within reach and with the assistance of the Golden Compass, the beast couldn't hide anywhere in the impressive hamlet. Not for long, anyway.

Hook stashed away the Golden Compass for the time being and grabbed the hilt of his sword, imagining a bloody and well-deserved demise for the Dark One.

_Patience_ , he said to himself. He mustn't race to the finish line in such haste. Despite the Dark One being without magic, it was vital to be prepared. The slithery bastard could have other tricks and measures and precautions in ensuring the safety of his own cowardly self.

Cora joined him at the helm and took the compass, pocketing it. The moment the ship swung into port, the woman uncapped the bottle and poured a liberal amount into her palm and blew the powdery, smoky dust over the deck. She did this a few more times and exited off the _Roger_ and onto the nearby. Her dark gaze swept over the vessel and she said, “It worked. Come, Hook. Let us go see my daughter.”

* * *

Emma poured a modest amount of whiskey into her a glass and slid it towards her guest. Mary Margaret harrumphed, her shoulders sagging. She then gripped the drink and knocked it back, grimacing and then shaking her head, hurt and disappointment pinching her brow. "Thanks for letting me come over. I just needed to talk to another woman right now."

"It's fine," Emma said, half-lying. Truthfully, she'd done her best to keep off this woman's radar, but it had proven to be difficult. Her mother's kindness and good-natured curiosity had put them in each other's presence constantly. True to Graham's words, Mary Margaret dropped by the station often with a basket of apple-less produce. She even put a put two containers of chocolate and caramel dipping sauce in the basket because Emma deserved something a little extra for dealing with the collapsed mining issue so admirably on her first day of the job.

“The entire date, Emma. The entire _date_ Victor had his eyes glued to Ruby’s backside.” She sniffed and zeroed in on Emma’s half-empty pint of Ben  & Jerry’s. “Are you going to eat that?”

Emma snickered through a sympathetic smile, unable to point out that she _was_ eating it, thus, why the pint was out and ready to be vanquished. She retrieved another spoon from the drawer and shoved it across the counter. “Have at her.”

Mary Margaret shoved a large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and muffled a disgusted, “ _Men!”_

“Men,” Emma agreed and sipped at her own whiskey.

“But not all men,” the other woman said pointedly. “Like Sheriff Graham for instance.”

“I thought the drunken rambling was supposed to kick in later." Emma poured herself some more whiskey and shot a playful glare at Mary Margaret. “I know where this is going. There’s nothing going on between me and Graham.”

“But _why not_? Have you noticed the way he looks at you?” Mary Margaret rested her head on her elbow and huffed. “I’d give anything for a guy to look at me like that.”

Emma thought of the John Doe coma patient at the hospital she discovered a few days ago. At first she hadn’t been sure, but August had assured her that the man was indeed her father. God, she’d been pissed. Every other day her mother put flowers in his room, and she didn’t even know that her prince was right there. Emma had the idea that perhaps Mary Margaret had to kiss him in order to not only wake him up but to break the curse. She told August about her idea and when he finally came up for air after pouring himself into Henry’s storybook, searching for clues and whatnots, he said the kiss could possibly stir him but breaking the curse was on her and her alone.

_“Then maybe I should kiss him,”_ she had suggested, wincing on how wrong that sounded and ignoring August’s disgusted expression. _“Not on the lips, obviously, but on the head or something. He’s my dad. It shouldn't be that weird._ ”

August shrugged and stuck his nose back into the crease of the book. _“But you don’t love him, Emma. Not really.”_

He wasn't wrong. A week hadn't completely changed her feelings concerning her father--the man who put her inside a magical tree and sent her off to Maine. She admitted to herself that she felt relieved he was alive and not dead from the blows of the Evil Queen's knights, but he still sent her away, and it wasn't something she could accept overnight or in the space of a few days.

Emma _had_ tried to wake her father and break the curse with a kiss. That very morning, in fact, and gave her unconscious father a quick, dry peck on the forehead when none of the hospital staff was around to accumulate any misconceptions on why the new deputy of Storybrooke was molesting a coma patient. Nevertheless, the man didn’t stir, nor did the monitors detect even the slightest of change. Her father continued to lay motionless, sickly, and pale on his hospital bed.

“Graham is my coworker,” Emma reminded, coming back to the present. “And…I caught him tumbling out of Regina’s bedroom window last night.”

Mary Margaret arched her brows, he eyes clear and sober. “Oh.”

“And it’s—you know—no big deal.” Emma reached across the counter with her spoon and scooped up some ice cream, shoving it into her mouth, her speech garbled as she continued, “They're both adults. It just upsets me Henry’s in the house. I’m trying to decide if I want to bring this up in the hearing. Or even tell Gold. He’d definitely bring it up. I don’t know. It just seems wrong bringing up something like that. People have a right to sleep with whoever they want. I mean I certainly have exercised that right, and Graham can, too. It’s just-”

“You’re babbling, sweetie.”

“I mean, c’mon! It’s Regina! What could he possibly see in her?” Emma knew her question was way out of line. She had an inkling of why Graham kept Regina company in her bedroom, and Emma feared it had more to do with him being ‘summoned’ rather than scratching an itch of his own. She recalled from the book how Regina controlled people by taking their hearts, and Emma hoped to God that crazy bitch didn’t have Graham’s.

Damn, she sounded a little crazy in her own head. Summoned? Controlling people by taking hearts? Shit, she needed another drink.

Her mother smiled knowingly. “Why don’t just tell him how you feel? Maybe if he knew his feelings would be returned…”

“I don’t feel anything for him.” Emma scowled at a miniscule crack on her counter and drummed her fingers. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t be appropriate. He’s my boss, and I’m about jump ass first into a custody battle.”

“You deserve some happiness, Emma.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling halfway. “But Graham’s not my ticket. Henry is.”

“I’ll accept that, but can I at least ask about the friend you came into town with? August?”

Emma’s phone buzzed, and she yanked it out of her pocket. “He’s a _friend_ like you said. Hold on.” She pressed the device to her ear and said, “Hello?”

_“Deputy Swan?”_

“Dr. Whale?” Emma furrowed her brow and shot Mary Margaret a look. She pinched her lips reprovingly.

_“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was unable to get ahold of Sheriff Graham. We have a situation concerning one of our patients. It appears that our John Doe coma patient has woken up and left the vicinity.”_

Emma's heart rate increased tenfold. “The John Doe patient? Are you sure?”

_"Positive. His bed's empty. I’m trying to get what I can from security, but I would sure appreciate it if you paid a visit as soon as possible. Mr. Doe needs to be tended to as soon as possible.”_

“I’ll be right over.” Emma hung up and frowned at her phone before snapping into reality and telling Mary Margaret, “I have to go. A patient. The coma patient at the hospital woke up, and I guess escaped.”

“Oh, my God,” the woman murmured. “That’s incredible. Not that he escaped, but he woke up. I’ve been putting flowers in his room…well…for as long as I can remember. Can I come?”

Emma dashed over to her bed on the opposite side of the room and yanked on her blue leather jacket over her blouse. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re going to need help searching for him. I can help. Please,” begged her mother which made Emma pause. She wondered if Mary Margaret’s desire to help was simply due to being a good person or if something was egging at her to reach out to her true love in his time of peril.

“Okay,” Emma relented quietly. “You can wait in the car when I go into the hospital.”

Emma drove them to the hospital, and she jogged inside to her father’s empty room, groaning inwardly when spotting a frazzled looking Regina pacing the room and tossing stricken expressions at Dr. Whale and some of the nurses. The woman’s eyes met hers, and her features contracted in severe irritation. “Miss Swan, this is a job for the sheriff. I suggest you return the station or for the love of God, just leave town,” she barked.

Emma slowed her march and regarded Regina carefully. Why the woman was even there, she didn’t know, but her rant stumped her. “Graham’s not with you?”

The woman’s cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and she shifted uncomfortably as if Dr. Whale and the nurses actually cared about anything beyond their missing patient and were perhaps staring at her, utterly scandalized. “No,” she finally confessed. “No, he’s not.”

Emma whipped out her cellphone as did Regina. They glared at each other as they dialed the sheriff’s number and waited for him to pick up on the other end.

“Can we focus on one missing person at a time? “Dr. Whale said, exasperated. “Deputy Swan, I’d like you to accompany me to the security office. Madam Mayor, you can go home. I’ll contact you the moment I receive any news.”

Regina opened her mouth and Emma practically saw the screeching, catty remark on the woman's tongue. Regina then surprisingly shut her mouth and stuck out her chin, nodding her head gently in acceptance of Whale's request. "The moment you receive any news, Dr. Whale," she affirmed.

“Who’s watching Henry?” Emma asked, checking her watch and then the clock on the wall for verification. It was late for a last minute sitter. She walked alongside Regina as they both exited the room.”

Regina cleared her throat and replied airily, “Not that it’s your business, Miss Swan, but a relative and only for a _short_ time.”

“It’s kind of my business since he’s my son, too,” Emma said coolly.

The other woman stopped in her tracks and swung her body to face Emma’s. Emma mimicked her movements but stood taller and put her hands on her cocked hips.

“Let me make something clear, Miss Swan. You will never have Henry. This joke of a custody battle will be thrown out at the first hearing, I  _promise_ you. Gold’s good, but not even he can spruce up your obvious inadequacies, not only as a parent, but as a human being. Your lifestyle is unstable and ill-equipped for a child. Your background shows nothing but disrespect for the law, so I want you take a real, long look in the mirror and ask yourself if you’re what’s best for Henry.”

Emma didn’t flinch and took a step into Regina’s personal space. “You would know all about those long looks in the mirror, wouldn’t you?”

Regina took a few steps back, her eyes widening. Her face went ashen, and Emma stalked away. She put a hand to her ribcage and felt her heart attempting to bust out of her. Shit, what had she done? Why did she say that?

She’d just given herself away.

Emma sped up her pace, focusing on the predicament at hand. Her mother was in the Bug, and her father was out there somewhere. Both were away from Regina, and that’s what mattered. As for Henry, Emma was certain Regina wouldn’t hurt him, even if it meant hurting her.

* * *

The young, messy-haired lad stared at Hook, a plushy bear tucked underneath his arm. The boy seemed rather unintimidating for being the Evil Queen’s son. Henry was his name, and he stood stark still at the bottom of the stairs in the main room of the Queen’s estate, barefooted and in soft, patterned night clothes.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Hook asked from his seat in the main room.

The little prince’s lips parted and his focus travelled from Hook’s face to the brace and hook. The boy bravely shuffled closer, asking, “Are you…Captain Hook?”

Arching a brow, Hook cocked his head. “And how is it you know my moniker, young man?”

Henry gasped and scamper towards Hook. “No way! This. Is. Awesome! I’m Henry.”

“Prince Henry,” Hook nodded gently, and the boy gave a slow smile in response.

“Prince? Cool!” He toddled a few feet away and scooted the neighboring chair closer to the man and plopped his backside onto it. “Where’s my mom? Does she know a pirate’s here?”

“She’ll be along. She had an important matter to take care of. Perhaps you ought to return to your bed before she comes back.”

Henry chortled. “Like I could go to sleep when Captain Hook is in my house! Tell me all about Neverland. Is it real? Is Peter Pan real? Did he really cut off your hand and feed it to a crocodile?”

“Somebody’s been feeling your wee head with all kinds of stories, haven’t they? Aye, Neverland’s as real as the freckles on your nose.”

Henry rose up on his chair and steadied himself on the table with his elbows. He bit his grinning lips and let out an excited squeal. “This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me! Tell me more! Tell me more!”

“Ah, but the tales of Neverland aren’t for children’s ears. It’s a frightening place.”

“Neverland’s not scary,” Henry argued, frowning. “What about the pixies and the mermaids and the Piccaninnies?” He hopped down of his chair and skipped around it, patting his wailing mouth like he was part of the tribe on a celebration night. When he became winded, he stopped and said, “And then Lost Boys. They're supposed to be dumb, and you’re supposed to have this big, curly beard and a funny hat! You’ve spent, like, forever trying to kill Peter Pan.”

Hook arched a brow, partially amused and somewhat befuddled from the boy’s claims. It appeared Prince Henry knew of circumstances like one would know a well-known but spotty tale. Hook mimicked the boy and rested his own arms on the table, leaning low to get eye level with him. “I will say that I tried once and only once to kill Pan.”

“By trying to poison him, but it went wrong because Tinker Bell drank it.”

Hook chuckled, shaking his head. “Perhaps one day you’ll let me know who’s been butchering the tales of Captain Hook.”

The boy’s smile turned sheepish and he shrugged. His mirth sobered when hearing a door close upstairs. His eyes snapped up the staircase, and his brow wrinkled when seeing Cora. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Hello, Henry,” she greeted, a forced simper on her lips. The skirt of her dress swayed as she climbed down the staircase, and Hook noticed a polished, wooden box in her hands. The design and type of wood nearly identical to Cora’s stash of hearts. “Your mother had an emergency to take care of and left you in my care. My name is Cora...I’m your grandmother.”

“My mom said my grandparents are gone,” Henry said, uncertain.

Cora nodded solemnly and made her way down the rest of the stairs. “Hook, I need you to take this box back to your ship. Keep it safe. Return promptly.”

“What is it? Did you take it from my mom?” the boy asked. He shook his head. “She won’t like that at _all_.”

“Don’t you worry about it. How about we go into the kitchen and find ourselves a snack,” Cora said.

“My mom says late-night snacking is bad for me.”

Giving the box to Hook, she said, “Your mother doesn’t have to know. It will be our little secret.”

“Can I have juice?”

“Of course. Anything you want.” Cora took Henry’s hand, and he leapt off the chair and followed alongside Cora through a swing door. Hook assured they were both well out of sight before unlatching the box with his hook and sneaking a peek, an uneasy feeling settling at the pit of his stomach. A bright, pulsing heart encased in velvet greeted him, and he would like to think it didn’t belong to the Evil Queen’s boy but to some other, poor soul. He then re-latched the box and tucked it under his arm and left the house for the docks. He chose not to dawdle and soak in the strange hamlet that was Storybrooke, wanting to return to the Queen’s abode as soon as possible to carry out the plan to snatch away the Dark One’s dagger as a precaution.

Some thirty minutes later, he was crossing the threshold back into the Queen’s house where he found no sign of the little prince or mother and daughter anywhere. After a moment, his ears perked at the sounds of talking and he followed, resting against the doorframe of the queen’s office. The woman sat on her chair behind a desk, her teeth clenched and tears streaking down her cheeks. Cora caressed her daughter’s and spared him a glance.

“It will be all right, Regina. I promise.”

“You don’t know that.” The queen shirked her mother’s comforting touch and slammed her hands on the surface of her desk. “I can’t kill her! The curse will break if I do, and David woke up! Mother, I can _feel_ the curse weakening. If it breaks, they’ll all hunt me down and kill me. She’ll take Henry away.” She grabbed a wooden apple paperweight and made the motion like she was going to toss it across the room in a fit of anger but paused to stare at it, considering it. “I _can’t_ let that happen.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Cora.

“And what of Rumpelstiltskin?” interjected Hook, pushing himself off the doorframe to enter the office, drawing the attention to him.

"You didn't kill him yet?" Regina seethed, slamming the paperweight on the desk. "What the hell were doing if you weren't dumping his body in the harbor? Raiding the stores and defiling the women?"

"I tended to an errand for your mother," he explained. "I intend fully to kill the Dark One, make no mistake of that, your highness. I just thought it polite to speak with you more about it since you are, indeed, ruler of this quaint village and will have to deal with the repercussions no doubt."

"Besides," Cora said with a half-shrug, "we should find his dagger first."

“The dagger?” The queen frowned, shooting her mother a perturbed expression and then glaring at Hook. “Is that what this is about?”

Alarmed, Hook said to Cora, "You assured me he needn't the dagger in this realm. It was no longer his weakness and couldn't possibly control him."             

“It’s only for precaution. It fuels his power-” Cora attempted.

“He has no power! He’s weak and completely human," said Regina. "You can kill him, Hook. He hurts and bleeds like everybody else."

“Honey, let’s not be rash,” Cora said softly. “The dagger will ensure-”

“It’s worthless, Mother! There’s no magic…” She held up the wooden apple and examined it. “Or maybe there’s just enough.” She glared at her mother and said, “Forget the dagger. If you really came to help me, then here’s your chance to prove it. Help stop my curse from breaking. Make sure I get to keep my happy ending.”

Cora stilled and then hesitantly nodded, beaming. “Of course. But I also want to think about the benefits of the curse breaking. The curse breaks and everything returns to what it was. You could have magic again, and we can conquer the Enchanted Forest together. Darling, don’t you miss it? Why, I’ve only been without for-”

“As long as I have Henry, I don’t need magic.” Regina’s expression grew stony. “I’m pleased you’re here and alive. I really am. I need you, but for once think about what’s best for me.”

“Oh, my daughter.” Cora enveloped Regina into a snug embrace. “Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” Regina pulled away and said to Hook, “I promise you don’t need his dagger to kill him. Your hook or sword will do just fine. When you’re finished, find your way back here. I may have a job for you yet.”

“And I’ll receive reciprocation?” Hook inquired anxiously.

“If it’s money you want, I’ll see to your needs.”

“Tempting, your highness” he said, licking his lips. "In case the Golden Compass fails me, I may need help in finding an ally I know came to his realm. I’m unfamiliar of how one tracks another, and I require assistance.”

“I can't promise you anything,” the queen said, annoyed. She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “There are seven billion people in this realm and you want to find _one_? Do you have a name at least?”

“Baelfire.”

“I doubt this Baelfire even goes by that name anymore. Your safest bet would be the compass, but I’ll help you in any way I can if you do this one favor for me. I have a plan. If all goes well, I’m leaving the rest to you. The savior knows who I am. She won’t trust me, and I won’t risk sending my mother. No offense.”

“None taken, milady. Mothers trump pirates always,” he replied, smirking roguishly.

“I’m going to give you something, and you're going to give it to the savior. Make sure she partakes of it _willingly_. Threaten her if you must. Swear you’ll kill her parents and any and everyone else in this town if she doesn’t.”

“Aye, willingly," he repeated, amused. Certainly didn't sound like a submissive ordeal. "Anything else?”

“Yes. If she refuses the first time, drive your hook into her mother's throat.”

* * *

The hot water of Emma's shower pounded at her back and shoulder blades, and she hoped the sensation would relieve the deep ache two hours of awkward sleep left her with. Near midnight upon finding her father at Toll Bridge and her mother giving him CPR to revive him, she quite literally watched them fall in love the moment he opened his eyes. Despite Mary Margaret’s need to get back to her apartment and rest up for her class, she accompanied the search party back to the hospital and intended to stay with him the entire night.

Emma wanted to be happy for them, but her worries of other things kept her mind occupied. Graham still hadn’t answered any of her phone calls, and she couldn’t forget how she allowed those foolish words to fall out of her mouth when speaking to Regina the night before at the hospital. Emma had half a mind to confront Regina and have a good old fashioned faceoff and may the best hard-ass win. The other part of her told her to keep any eye on those she cared about most such as Mary Margaret and now her father and only retaliate when necessary. Neither option sounded ideal, but what exactly was she supposed to do when her main concern was Henry? He didn’t want any harm to come to Regina because she was his mom, too, and not even a bad one.

Later, when she arrived at the station, she was surprised to find Leroy asleep in a cell. She tossed her keys noisily on her desk in hopes of stirring the man awake but he merely snorted and rolled over on his cot. She flipped through his file that was carelessly splayed open on her desk and skimmed it, finding out that he was expectedly arrested for being drunk and disorderly. In a sticky note, Graham had mentioned that Leroy was also spouting off nonsense about pirate ships. Emma scoffed and discarded the file, marching over and unlocked his cell, swinging the door wide open and saying, “Hey, it’s morning. You’re free to go.”

Leroy grumbled and groaned, eventually sitting up to glare at her. “Morning, sister.”

“What time did Graham book you last night?” Emma asked.

The man shrugged and scratched at his stubble. “About nine, I guess.”

“Did he just drop you off and leave?”

“Nah. He hung around for a bit and then suddenly made a run for it. I’m guessing there was an emergency concerning the pirate ship I saw at the docks.”

“There’s no pirate ship at the docks, Leroy. Sorry. So you don’t know where he went?”

“I know what I saw!” he growled and stalked out of the cell. “If he didn’t go there, I don’t know where he went.”

Emma didn’t press him for any more information and went to go make some coffee. She needed a pot before hitting the pavement, asking questions to any and every one about the apparently missing sheriff. Again, she punched his number into her phone, this time being sent straight to voicemail. Dammit, his phone was probably dead.

While her coffee brewed, she found a store-bought, cellophane-wrapped apple turnover in Graham’s drawer and tore it open. She munched on it and investigated other parts of his desk, hoping to find a clue as to where he went off to in such a hurry the night before. Aside from finding a twenty-eight year old issue of _Playboy_ in his bottom left drawer, an open box of condoms, and a party mix bag of chocolate candies; she found nothing interesting or helpful.

On her third cup of coffee, Emma was alert enough to start asking the locals some questions about their sheriff, thinking she should start with Granny’s first. She grabbed her red jacket from her chair and slipped it on, the phone on her desk ringing as she zipped up.

“Storybrooke Police Station,” she said into the receiver.

_“Miss Swan,”_ Mr. Gold said from the other end, his tone irate. _“I need you and Sheriff Graham to come to my shop immediately. It’s been broken into and vandalized.”_

“Uh…” Emma scratched her neck, scrunching her nose in dismay. Shit! Graham decided to go AWOL, and Storybrooke went to hell in handbasket. First, her dad wakes up and wanders off. Then Gold’s shop gets broken into and trashed. What would be next? God, she was scared to even think about it. “Yeah, of course. It’ll just be me, but I’ll be over in a few.”

Emma hung up the phone and stomped out of the station, muttering, “Son of a bitch.” She got into her car and sped over to Gold’s, taking note of the smashed glass of the window of the door. She entered and hissed when her boot made contact with an already broken piece of merchandise. She skimmed the establishment and surmised that nearly every square inch of the floor was covered in irreparably damaged merchandise.

Gold came hobbling from the back, and Emma asked while getting out her cellphone to take pictures, “Is there anything missing?”

The man went to an open safe behind the counter, his expression grim and vengeful. “A shawl, a teacup, as well as several other trinkets from the safe, but it’s the former two I care about most.”

Emma snapped a picture of the floor and then stared at him. “A shawl and a teacup.”

“They both belonged to people I cared for dearly. The shawl is a light beige color and the stitching is...old world, one could say. The teacup is porcelain and chipped on the rim.”

“Uh huh,” Emma noised noncommittally. Like she was going to be able to find them off that _glorious_ depiction. “If they were so special to you, why’d you keep him here in your store and not at home?”

“Ah, well, sometimes it’s nice to keep one's prized possession throughout the day.”

“I guess,” she said. “You wouldn’t happen to have an inkling of the person who did this, would you?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Emma straightened and regarded the man uneasily. “You think Regina did this.”

“It makes sense. She attacked me. She’s trying to ward me off representing you. She sees me as a threat. I’d call her brilliant, but the fact that she not only stole from me but destroyed my property eludes to the fact that she’s not as smart as she likes to think. Perhaps you can gather fingerprints and trace them back to her. You prove she did this or even trace it to one of her lackeys such as Sidney Glass, then it’s a guarantee you’ll win custody of Henry by the second hearing if not the first.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sniffed and nodded. “All right. I’ll check for prints and take a few more pictures for the insurance company.”

Gold circled around the counter and stooped down gingerly, picking up a glass unicorn figurine, tiny in craftsmanship. He toed the smashed-to-hell baby mobile from where it broke off from and exhaled sharply. “Many of these things cannot be replaced by a cheque, Miss Swan.”

"I’ll get to work on those pictures and prints. We'll figure out who did this.”

“Leave the photographs to me. Take care of the rest and do it quickly.”

Emma managed to pull some fingerprints from the door and the safe and took them back to the station, running them and turning up empty. Unless Madam Mayor was the only one in town who didn’t have her fingerprints in Storybrooke’s system, then the evidence did not point towards her. Some other person who had beef with Gold made a mess and stole from him and, shit, that could be anyone in town. It wasn’t a secret everyone loathed him. Now she'd have to track down the person who had the balls to commit such a blatantly disrespectful crime.

Since there wasn’t a match for Regina, Emma ran the prints against everyone in the system and unless the suspect was under twelve years old, he or she was an outsider to Storybrooke.

Sitting back in her seat, she gnawed on her bottom lip and considered August. Since she told him she hired him as her lawyer, he’d been dying to tell her something but always seemed to stop himself. Like he wanted to lay a load of shit on her but didn’t know how without getting in trouble. Emma hadn’t pushed, her mind elsewhere with Henry and Regina and Mary Margaret, but maybe now was the time to hit up August for information. From spending so much time with Henry’s book, he should have a substantial amount of info by now.

Emma was about to dial August’s number when the station’s phone rang. She discarded her phone on the desk and answered.

_“Deputy Swan, this is Dr. Whale, again.”_

“Is everything all right with the John Doe?” Emma asked in a rush.

_“Yes, he’s fine aside from severe memory loss. I’m calling to report a missing psychiatric patient.”_

“Seriously?”

_“I'm afraid so.”_

Emma picked up a pen, only to intentionally drop it with a sigh. “I’ll be right over to check with security. Hopefully the patient didn’t get far.”

She hung up the phone and sprinted out of the station and to her car. She drove to the hospital where Dr. Whale was waiting for her in the lobby. She walked alongside him as he escorted her to the security’s office, the doctor spouting off the patient’s basic information.

“Jane Doe. Brown hair and blue eyes. After reviewing some of the tapes within the last hour, I think it's safe to say she didn't simply walk out during rounds but was let out intentionally. Perhaps even taken. The reception nurse on duty may’ve been drugged.”

“Drugged,” she repeated and looked to the screen one of the security guards was pointing to. Emma saw the back of an orderly come to the nurse’s desk and hand her a Styrofoam cup. The video then cut to the empty stairwell leading to the psych ward where a man lay barely dressed and unconscious.

“He was knocked out and stripped. He’s being taken care of in the E.R. He’ll be fine,” said Whale and the video cut back to hallway of the psych ward where one of the doors was halfway open. “Ms. Doe on the other hand, it’s impossible to say right now. Her file states she’s not only a victim of severe amnesia but has schizophrenia. She needs her medication.”

The video jumped back to the nurse behind the desk, her slumped form stirring awake. Dr. Whale paused it there and said, “She’s being looked over, as well. She said she didn’t recognize the man who brought her tea, but she might be able to pick him out in a lineup.”

“A lineup.” Emma chuckled and folded her arms. “It’s fine, Dr. Whale. I have a suspect fitting the profile. Call me if you have any updates.”

Leaving the hospital and jumping back into her car, she sped out of Storybrooke and towards Jefferson’s mansion. A half-mile from the turn off point, something in the trees caught her eye. Her heart caught in her throat, and she pulled the Bug over. She got out of the car and sprinted in the direction of where she saw Graham.

“Graham,” she called out, spotting him a hundred yards away from the road staring into a clearing. She nearly ran into him but dug her heels into the soft, damp earth of the forest and placed her hands on his shoulders. His eyes snapped to her face, and he caressed her cheek.

“Emma,” he murmured reverently.

“Hey,” she said gruffly, leaning away from his touch. “Where’ve you been? These last twelve hours have been a nightmare, and I could’ve used the help.” She took in his appearance, his scruff even more rugged and his hair in need of comb. Catching a faint whiff of him, he needed a shower, too.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Emma,” he said, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought I saw a wolf. Thought I heard her howl. I need…” He went to take a step and lost his footing. Emma caught him by the arm and hoisted back on his feet.

“Whoa. Okay. Easy there, tiger. Somethings wrong. I get it now.” She stared in the direction of Jefferson’s mansion, but her mind was already made up. “We’re going to the station, all right? We’ll get you all straightened out.”

Graham fell asleep on the short ride to the police station, but he managed to get himself out of the vehicle and into the building without her help. Inside, she brewed a fresh pot of coffee and called in a favor to Granny’s, asking Ruby to bring by some grilled cheeses, fries, and milkshakes. Emma then placed the mug of coffee in front of Graham and set on the edge of his desk, studying the deep rings beneath his eyes and the strange alertness in his posture. She was about to ask a ‘what the hell?’ when her cellphone buzzed. She looked at the screen and saw it was Gold. She massaged the skin between her brows and tossed it aside. He could wait.

* * *

The rich, off brown liquid boiled over the stove. Regina stirred the cider and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot before taking it off the flame. Distractedly, she fanned away the steam with an oven mitt and checked her watch and then her clock. If Emma was adhering to her schedule as the deputy, she should be on her lunch break within the next half-hour to forty-five minutes, depending on the work load.

Regina had wanted to prepare an enticing apple turnover with the poisoned apple she retrieved with the help of Jefferson. Her mother, however, persuaded her to concoct a cider. A turnover would spoil after a few days, but a cider could be preserved for further sampling. Regina reluctantly agreed, thinking of how Prince David awoke from his coma. No one would bat an eyelash if he happened to fall into another.

Regina removed her apron and stalked into her sitting room and up the stairs. The pirate was back at his ship, thank God. That morning Henry would not shut up about meeting Captain Hook the night before when he should’ve been in bed. She’d done her best in trying to persuade her that Grandma’s friend was not the villain from _Peter Pan_ , and the man was only indulging him. Henry remained unmoved from his stance, and Regina only hoped he’d forget about the pirate soon.

Which may prove to be difficult in the long run.

Overall, Regina was glad her mother managed to reach this realm, but there wasn’t a way back to the Enchanted Forest. She used the last bits of her magic to snatch the apple. Her mother and the pirate were stuck here, and if Regina didn’t come through successfully on her end of the bargain and find this Baelfire, Hook may not leave Storybrooke. Her sleepy, fairytale town did not need a pirate philandering about. The town already had one drunk; it needn’t another.

Quietly walking by the guest room where her mother slept, Regina entered her own bedroom and closed the door behind her. She went to her bedside table and thought of how she needed Graham away from the station, specifically Emma, for a little while. He’d been missing from duty the night before at the hospital, but he’d come to Regina if contacted the right way. She opened the drawer of her bedside table, and the air left her lungs. Her fingers made contacts with the bottom of the drawer, and she pulled it all the way out, only toss it aside and peer into the cupboard beneath it.

“No,” she said, frightened. She whipped her head around, searching for a spot she could’ve carelessly discarded Graham’s heart. She wouldn’t have, though. She was always so careful and protective of it. Her gaze landed on the opposite wall, and she nearly vomited. “Mother, what’ve you done?”

Running out of the room and to the next, she burst inside and screeched when seeing it empty. “Mother!” she yelled and tore apart the room, starting with the bedside table, followed by the bedding and pillows, and ending with the closet. A few minutes later, the room lay in shambles and she was doubled over, winded from the violent burst and apprehension. She was stupid! She was so, so stupid! God, she was such an imbecile to think her mother wanted what was best for her. She didn’t and never had. Oh, God! What if her mother had already...

The ship. Hook’s ship. Graham’s heart had to be there. Her mother wouldn’t have teased her with the possibility of the heart being on the property. She would’ve taken it out of sight completely, and Regina could only hope the woman merely moved the box where the heart was to another location and hadn’t tampered with it, or worse, crushed it.

Regina sprinted down the stairs and out of the house, jumping into her car and speeding towards the docks.


	17. Chapter 17

Popping the first aid kit open, Emma grabbed a handful of alcohol swap packets, ripping open one to dab at the clearly infected scrape on Graham's left palm. He hissed at the contact, but she kept his hand steady with her grip and shot him a warning glare.

"Hold still." She discarded the soiled square in favor of a new one. "Tell me what happened."

"I must've fell or something," he said, disoriented.

Emma found a packet of disinfectant ointment in the kit and squeezed some on his palm, gently rubbing around the liquid-y substance. "That's not what I meant."

"I-I don't know, Emma. I really don't. I just…heard the howling of a wolf and felt the need to find it. Does that make sense?" He winced when she slapped on a bandaged and pressed the edges to ensure it stuck to his skin.

"There aren't any wolves in the area, Graham," she said softly and stepped back, folding her arms.

"I know, but I heard..." he looked at her and sighed, hanging his head. "Doesn't matter."

"It _does_ matter. You can't just take off because you hear a wo-" Emma cut herself short when Ruby entered the office, two white paper bags shoved into a plastic sack looped around her fingers as well as a cardboard drink-carrier securing two beverages. She smiled warmly at them which disappeared instantly the moment she saw the wounds on Graham's palm. Her nostrils flared, and Emma heard her audibly sniff.

"Something wrong?" asked Emma and Ruby shook her head as if snapping out of a trance.

"Just zoned out for a second." She saluted them with her delivery. "Two grilled ham and cheeses, fries and onion rings, and two cookies n' cream milkshakes."

Emma grabbed the lunch order and set it on her desk next to the first aid kit before paying Ruby the bill and a tip. "Thanks."

"No problem." The girl gave a one-shouldered shrug, biting her lip coyly. "So how's August? He's been keeping to himself lately. Only see him at night for a bit."

"He's good."

"Tell him I'm not going to be accepting anymore rain cheques for that drink." Ruby leaned in closer to Emma, dropping her voice to a whisper. "As for a little gossip for the deputy of Storybrooke. It was, like, _really_ early." She waggled her brows. "Madam Mayor had a guy in her car. I saw him when I was cleaning off the patio tables. Super gorgeous, FYI."

"Huh," Emma replied, extremely disturbed Graham was not the one and only of Regina's. Emma tossed a glance over her shoulder to see if Graham heard, but he was too engrossed with his lunch, thankfully.

"Oh, my God! Is that the time?" Ruby looked at the clock on the wall and then her red leather watch, swearing under her breath. "I have to head over to the elementary for the teachers' conference. Granny's catering."

The moment Ruby rushed out of the office, Emma dug into one of the paper bags and pulled out a crispy, yet gooey, buttery sandwich. Graham had already finished his and was plowing his way through his fries. When he finished, he winced and gingerly touched his stomach, confessing in embarrassment, "I think I ate too fast."

"Mmhmm," Emma agreed, nodding. The phone on her desk rang, and she put down her milkshake and fries, wiping her hands before answering. "Storybrooke Police Station, this is Deputy Swan."

" _I need you to come by the shop this very moment,"_ said Gold.

Sighing, Emma wiggled in her chair to get more comfortable and readjusted the phone to her opposite ear. "The investigation's still pending. I'm sorry, but there's nothing further I can do right now. What you can do is help me out and give me a list of probable suspects. Others that may have it out for you."

"This doesn't concern that."

"Oh. Is it the hearing?"

" _It's not. Just please come over. I…"_ He paused and she pictured him rolling his eyes and scratching the back of his neck, _"may have lead on the missing patient who escaped from the hospital."_

Emma frowned. How in the hell did he get word of that? She hadn't issued a public warning or lookout concerning the missing woman. Thinking about it, perhaps she should've. "You have my attention, Mr. Gold. I'll be right over." She hung up the phone and studied Graham's exhausted features. She nibbled on her lips and then put her hands on her hips, saying to Graham, "Go home."

"Emma," he started.

"Go home," she repeated slowly. "A girl scout could take you out, no sweat. I got a handle on this, but I expect you to be here at seven tonight for the night shift, and I expect you to stay put."

"Aren't I supposed to be calling the shots?" he asked, amused, and he reached for her one of her wonky tendrils that got a little too much excitement from the sprint she did in chasing after him in the forest.

She allowed him two whole seconds of touching her hair before realizing her pity for him, thus, the reason why she put up with his accidental brushings, the flirting, and the yearning glances. Yes, she possibly liked him a little, too, and was flattered by his deep, obvious affection for her. But...Henry was the only male she wanted to make time for. Plus, she really, _really_ didn't want to get burned. Curse or no curse, Graham could hurt her. It's what men did.

Emma leaned away from his touch. "Yeah, that privilege has been revoked until further notice. Are you going to argue with me?"

His hand dropped in defeat, and he mumbled, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." She grabbed her car keys and headed to the hallway, calling over her shoulder. "I mean it. Go home!"

"All right, all right. If you're that desperate to be rid of me."

"There may be a chance I'll call you, just to forewarn. I've got to pay a visit to a suspect on a case after I see what Gold has for me."

"I should go with you."

"Tell you what. You go and put in a few hours of shuteye, and I'll call you when I have the suspect in custody ready for questioning. _Then_ you can help me figure out who did some severe property damage at Mr. Gold's."

His features twisted oddly and then he blinked, shaking his head. "Fine, I'll go."

"Great," Emma slowly said, finding his subtle shift in behavior strange. She brushed it off and tidied up the desk, trashing the lunch sacks and wrappers and putting away the first aid kit. A few minutes later, she walked into Gold's shop and saw that he'd swept a pathway in the debris on the floor. She kept to it and stalked towards the man behind the single, remaining countertop that hadn't been broken. He was wiping a long, rectangular case with a cloth. At the sound of something falling that came from the back of the store, his eyes darted to side and then to her.

"Hello, Miss Swan. Thank you for stopping by."

"You have a lead for me," she reminded and rested her elbows on the edge of the counter. Mr. Gold's features went grim and he clicked open the case and turned it for her to see a pristinely polished sword resting in lush, padded comfort. Intrigued, she went to touch it but caught herself right before poking the hilt. "Why the hell are you showing me a sword?"

"Because, dearie," he said, "it's your father's sword."

* * *

Regina stepped out of her badly parked car and skimmed the harbor. All the docks were occupied except for the one before her. Her mother mentioned having shielded the ship with bits of magic she'd taken from the Enchanted Forest previous to leaving. Despite Regina's irate feelings towards her mother, she was grateful the woman had some preconceived notion that those of the of Land Without Magic in 2011 North America had very little reason to accept an old world pirate ship docked in a Maine harbor.

Stepping onto the dock, Regina studied the water and the peered up towards the sky, spotting a small flock seagulls circling nothing. She sprinkled a bit of sand off to her left and watched the fallen granules outline a shape similar to a narrow set of stairs. She carefully climbed them and found herself on board the _Jolly Roger_. She walked the main deck until she saw a declining set of stairs leading to a hallway. She came to a heavy wooden door and opened it, finding the space empty save for a cot-like bed pressed against the wall and a desk neighboring it. She looked over her shoulder before crossing the threshold and heading to the desk. On top of it were several sheets of parchment, a bow, and a half-empty quiver. Everything had a thick layer of dust on it like the room hadn't been used in well over a decade.

The rickety, fragile drawers of the desk were empty and when she closed the last one, she heard the click of a gun behind her. She turned to face Hook, the man clearly upset at her intrusion regardless of their alliance. The two of them, including Cora, had spent almost the entire night and much of the morning in each other's company.

"My apologies, your highness. I don't care for uninvited guests on my ship." he said with his sea service pistol still at the ready.

Regina showed her palms and calmly explained, "My mother hid something of mine on this ship."

His eyes travelling her form. "I've been allies with your mother longer than you. If you wish to have me hand over your possession, then you're going to have to give me an excellent incentive."

"I've offered you money and my help in finding your friend," she reminded, displeased by the possibility of offering this pirate any more than what was originally agreed upon. "And may I ask why is Gold still alive?"

"He wasn't in his shop, but I left a gift and stole a few. Not to worry." Hook's gaze swept the room, and he clenched his teeth. Out of all the cabins and rooms, she picked this one. He gestured at her with the pistol and guided her out of the room. A few moments later, they were in the captain's quarters. As he fiddled with the dial on his safe, she sneered at the lack of light and the musty, wooden, salt smell.

"Where's my mother?" she asked, coming to the conclusion Cora was not on the ship.

"If she's not at your house, then I haven't the faintest," he said, grim. Where was Cora, indeed? He opened the safe and pulled out the box he placed there the night before. He walked over to the table in the middle of the room and set it down. Regina went to grab the box and scoot it closer to her but flinched when the bastard of a pirate slammed his hook on the cover. "If you fail to find Baelfire, perhaps there's another you could search for me. She is from this realm which may be easier on you, I suppose. Swear to me you will find her and report her whereabouts."

"I promise."

Hook's glare became merciless. He maneuvered the box out of her reach and when she leaned forward to grab it, he put the point of his hook at her jugular. With his mouth inches from her alarmed face, he said, "You will not do to me what you did to that hatter who paid a visit this morning. If you dare give me the same treatment, it won't be just Rumpelstiltskin's body being fished from the harbor, _your majesty_."

"You have my word." Finding some girl _with records_ would be simpler than rewriting a life for a madman such as Jefferson.

Reluctantly, Hook pushed the box back across the table into Regina's awaiting hands. Her eyes became shiny, and she smiled in relief. She swallowed and undid the latch to open the lid. When she did, her joy melted away and a tear managed to escape down her cheek. "It's not here! What did you do with it?"

To see for himself, he rounded the table and peered into the case, a sensation of annoyance and a bit of anger settling in his chest. He scoffed and said, "Cora must've taken it."

"Where is she?!"

Hook exhaled sharply. It wasn't the missing heart that had him upset, though he sympathized in his own way. "I think we both know the answer to that question."

Regina cupped her stomach and panted heavily. She paced the room for a short while and then stopped abruptly. Eyes red from tears but furious nonetheless, she snarled. She shook her head and spat, "The dagger. She's going to use the heart to help her get the dagger. Why can't she understand it's worthless."

"It's not everywhere, your highness."

"Unless she's procured a way back-"

"She has," admitted Hook.

"You have another magic bean?" she asked, incredulous.

"The wardrobe that supposedly sent your beloved savior to this realm."

Regina's wrinkled her forehead, and she stepped closer to him. "You brought _that_."

"A piece of it. We restored its power from the water of Lake Nostos."

The woman clenched and unclenched her fists. For a moment, she looked betrayed, even defeated before removing that look from her face. She then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Consider your alliance for my mother terminated as of immediately. You're working with me now and since I can't trust you'll behave in the presence of Rumpelstiltskin...My mother is with him now, I know it." She pinched her chin, thinking. "She'll be milking a dry cow. He won't...can't remember who he actually is."

"Doesn't he?" Hook questioned, dubious. He walked back to this safe and extracted two items, a shawl and a chipped teacup. He inwardly smirked when seeing Regina's eyes narrow in on the latter. He held it up and rotated it tauntingly. "I discovered this peculiar trinket in the safe in his shop. It's not part of set and couldn't possibly fetch a worthwhile price with such a flaw. As for the shawl, it's worn and frayed. It's been cared for, but centuries have pecked at it mercilessly. Mmm." He studied the familiar craftsmanship of the material and made a plausible assumption. "I believe this belonged to his boy."

"He has a _son_?"

Hook returned the items into the case and closed it. "That's neither here nor there. If you truly want the heart back, we mustn't waste time. I must ask, though. Does it belong to your boy?"

"You think I'd take my own son's heart?" she sputtered, both disgusted and infuriated. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I can't take hearts here." She shook her head, glowering. "I can't put them back either. This heart is from someone _before_ , and it's none of your business who."

She fished her keys out of her coat pocket and started towards the exit. "Rumpelstiltskin's not going anywhere. You can wait a little longer and make yourself useful another way." She sniffed and climbed to the main deck, Hook following behind her. "The poison is in my kitchen in a pot. Take this." She fished a small vial from the pocket of her cat. "And go to the police station. You can't miss it—it's on Main Street. She's aggressive and strong and slippery. She can weasel her way in and out of impossible situations without breaking a sweat. Don't be fooled by her looks."

"A lass after my own heart," he said, grinning and waggling his brows. "Perhaps my powerful talent in persuasion will be enough for her to partake of the Sleeping Curse."

"She's not stupid," Regina said.

Hook accompanied her to her vehicle and when she opened the door to get in, he said, "What does she look like? To be sure I get the right girl."

"She's blonde," Regina said vehemently, shrugging, as if that one description alone was enough to succeed in his endeavor. She must've noticed his bemused expression, for she unhelpfully elaborated by adding, "You can't miss her or confuse her with anyone."

* * *

The water rippled gently from the brisk, light wind catching in tunnel of the well. Emma stared down it and beside her on the ledge was the bottle of True Love from which she extracted from the dragon. Gold—Rumpelstiltskin, for the love of God—promised her if she defeated the dragon, she'd receive the Plan B (so-to-speak) in breaking the curse. The man hadn't wasted any time with pleasantries, hastily and vaguely explaining he remembered his life from the Enchanted Forest, and she mustn't run around confused on how to break Regina's curse when he came to this realm prepared for her tardiness.

Gold had been startled but overall pleased of her quick acceptance that Storybrooke was a genuine _novelty_ and Regina was definitely the Evil Queen. He offered Emma her father's sword in obtaining what he secured so many years before, and as she peered down into the well, hesitant and pensive, she wondered if perhaps she should've lingered in Gold's shop a little longer and ask how in the hell he knew about the missing psychiatric patient.

God, there were so many questions. The missing psychiatric patient wasn't even at the top of the list. Everything just became real. All over again like when she was sixteen and taken to Neverland. Like shoving a knife into Peter Pan's heart, and he _smirked_ at her.

Emma needed to throw the True Love potions into the well. Gold claimed it would break the curse, but what if it didn't? In the shop when he was explaining jack-shit to her, her mind blanked at the mention of a way to break the curse. She foolishly focused on that and only that, thinking of saying hello and bidding farewell to her parents as well as getting the hell out of town with Henry all secured and cozy in the back seat of her Bug.

Droplets of icy rain fell from the sky, and Emma shivered. She'd take Henry somewhere warm.

Picking up the bottle, Emma suspended it over the ledge and wondered if she was making a huge mistake by taking the easy way out by gobbling up Gold's words. The fairytales she knew and his brief excerpt in the _Once Upon a Time_ pained him as an untrustworthy creature, one who was out to make a deal to a party who couldn't hold up their end of it.

Well, it hadn't been that easy. She was nearly ripped to shreds by a dragon. _And_ she hadn't made a deal. Gold handed her over Prince David's sword in faith she'd succeed and break the curse.

God, she was psyching herself out by overthinking everything. She didn't know what else to do but go on Gold's word. There wasn't another option. She did what August had said and believed this town arrived to this realm by a curse. She believed her parents were fairytale characters for Christ's sake. But how to break the curse, she just didn't know. In stories, curses broke by True Love's kiss, and she didn't have one.

"I should call August," Emma mumbled, holding the True Love potion to her chest. She thought of Henry, and her breath caught in her throat. The hearing and the baggage following it wouldn't have to happen if the curse broke. She could finally, and rightfully, take him away from Maine. Boston would be out of the question, as well. It was too close to all the nonsense. Magic was dangerous. Something she discovered true and consequential in Neverland. It came with a price as Neal had said often.

"Okay," she said, sighing deeply and closing her eyes. She loosened her grip and let the bottle fall, only opening her eyes when hearing the splash. Her brow furrowed when seeing a gradual, billowing smoke erupt from the well. It spilled over the ledge and touched her legs and hands, making them tingle. Soon the smoke churned and thickened. She backed away in apprehension, comparing the wave of magical energy she read about in Henry's book to what she was witnessing before her. She inched further away and then broke out into a run towards her Bug at the cabin where she and August once stayed. The potion had not broken the curse and in her ten minute sprint, she accepted she was a moron and Gold was ass. She also accepted that she was going to grab Henry and bolt. Everyone else in the entire universe, including all the realms, could go to hell.

* * *

The messy-haired brunette stared earnestly at Regina from her position in Gold's bathtub located in the apartment above the store. Belle. She was curled on her side like a fetus, with her wrists bound at her stomach and a scarf tied tightly over her mouth. Her blue-eyes were bloodshot and wide from pain and fright. Blood flowed freely onto her hospital gown from the oozing, open wound where her left pinky used to be.

Graham stood by the tub, a bloodied chopping knife in his fist waiting for Cora's order to inflict more damage. Regina recognized the knife. She'd given it to Graham in a set for Christmas a decade ago, hoping he would take up cooking rather than rely on Granny's takeout and the pharmacy in town for his meals and snacks. She'd also given him a cast iron skillet and other kitchenware, but that was hardly the point now.

Regina stood at the threshold of the bathroom in Graham's apartment, and she flinched when feeling her mother rest her chin on her shoulder. Her mother nuzzled her hair and inhaled deeply before saying, "This one's just not having a good day."

Cora meant Belle, Regina was sure of it, but from the weathered appearance of Graham and Gold-the latter sitting on the former's bed behind her and her mother—it could've been any one of them.

Regina closed her eyes and calmed her nerves. "All I want is the heart, Mother. If you want to torture this woman, do it with your own hands."

"In this new attire you lent me," Cora said, chuckling. "I don't think so."

"He is _not_ your toy!" Regina seethed, shirking her mother's touch and whirling around to stare at her. From his powerless position on the bed, Gold attempted to make eye contact with her, but Regina was not an idiot. At that moment, Gold was weighing his options, trying to decide the lesser of the two evils, even though both she and her mother were at the top of his To Kill list. One wanted his dagger and was willing to slice into Belle for it. The other locked said woman up for over twenty-eight years _and_ made him believe she was dead.

"Just yours. Right, Regina?" said Gold, his grin murderous and strained.

"Shut up!" Regina hissed, and she cocked her head to the side. "How long _have_ you remembered, Gold? Certainly not this whole time."

"It hardly matters now," Cora said, frowning. "Where's the dagger, Rumpel? Tell me or this darling girl will lose another finger."

Gold gripped his cane and used it as leverage to stand. He said nothing as he hobbled over to the window, parting the thin curtain and peering out as if searching for something. Regina furrowed her brow, feeling all her hairs standing on end like a subtle, electrical current was pulsating throughout the room. She marched over to him and looked over his shoulder, her breath catching when seeing a dark, purple originating from the forest billowing towards the town. She backed away and went to grab onto her mother, fully intending of getting them both out of the apartment before the gust of magic hit and Gold was no longer powerless.

Yet, she paused, remembering Cora still had Graham's heart, and the real reason why the woman decided to pay her a visit.

"Something the matter, dearie?" Gold said, baring his teeth unpleasantly. It turned hostile when a blood-curdling scream bounced off the walls of the apartment, and Regina flinched.

"She still has eight more, Rumpel," Cora called out, amused. "My, my. She's a bleeder, isn't she?"

"Pick. Your. Side," said Gold through clenched teeth, his voice barely a whisper. "We fight _our_ war another day."

Regina pursed her lips, licking her teeth and casting her gaze sideways before pinning him with a threatening glare. "If Graham dies, it's over. It will be _me_ looking for your dagger."

Another sharp scream filled the apartment followed by an anguished-filled sob. This time, Regina didn't flinch.

* * *

The Evil Queen's son lay in a heap on the pristinely kept kitchen floor of her house, a spilt cup a few feet away from the threshold. Hook reached down and picked it up, assuming the thing must've rolled when the boy made impact with the tile. His stomach then dropped, and he swore, throwing the cup to the side and rushing to Henry.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed again and gathered the lad into his arms. The boy, lifeless and pale, formed against him, his head lolling back and his free arm hanging loose. Hook bounced Henry in arms, hoping the stirring would arouse him, yet the boy's eyes remained closed.

"It wasn't not meant for you, lad." Panic began to settle when he noticed the increasing whitening of the boy's skin and the blue tinge hueing his lips. Hook knew little about Sleeping Curses, but he knew they were supposed to make the victim appear sleeping, not deathly. Resting his ear against the boy's chest, Hook heard nothing. He placed the boy on the island countertop and searched for a pulse, feeling a weak one at his jugular which could only be a teasing echo of a voice long since silenced.

"Shite." He put his right palm on the boy's chest and his hook over that and started compressions. He blew air into Henry's lungs and started again. "Come on, son, breathe."

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen harassed Hook, mocking him by reminding him of how long a person can last without breath. "Wake up, Henry," he ordered. "Think of your mum. She needs you, all right?"

The front door burst open, and Hook heard a woman calling for Henry. It didn't sound like Regina, but who else could it be?

"In here!" he yelled. He looked at Henry and smoothed away the fringe covering his greying brow. Bloody hell, the boy was gone. The Sleeping Curse mustn't have worked. A poisoned apple in this magic-less realm was nothing but that-poison.

The kitchen door swung open, and he shook his head at the boy. "He drank it. I tried…" He sent a rueful glance at the woman and froze, expecting to see Henry's mother but instead saw a blonde woman whose hair fell in lush, thick curls which teased her shoulder blades. On her person, she wore tight trousers and lace-up boots and a red leather jacket.

The savior. Well, Regina had said he'd know her when he saw her.

"I understand your quarrel with the queen," he said to her and gestured to Henry, "but I'd rather not have one with her. This is her boy. He needs care-"

" _Hook."_

The way she said his name—like she knew him well enough to not feel remorse in ending his miserable existence if she so wanted—caused him to bristle. He looked at her again, taking in her freckled nose and the stern, downward turn of her perfect lips. However, it was her merciless green eyes that forced those reeling cogs inside his skull to click in place.

"Emma?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally have reunited after eleven years. What? You're not thrilled about the circumstances? ;) Did you think she was going to almost hit him with her car like she did Henry? Or better yet, actually hit him with her car? Tell me your thoughts, comments, constructive criticisms, etc, etc. I'd love to hear about them.


End file.
